World's End
by Child of Magick
Summary: Elves aren't supossed to get sick. But when Legolas falls ill... Legolas finds help from an unexpected source.
1. Prologue

_Waves frantically_. Hi everyone! Yes, I'm back for round two. Are you frightened? Can't blame you there. I would be, too. Anywho...  
  
This is the sequel to 'The Silent Prince'---number two in the Fate's Choice series---so if this stuff doesn't make sense to you, I hope that's why. This WILL BE SLASH by the time it is over, and will also have an OC romance. If you don't like that---And I can't say that I blame you. I actually hate reading OC romances, and am still trying to figure out why the hell I'm writing one. Anyway, if either of these things bother you, Then go no further. I would want you to insult either my intelligence or yours by sending a nasty email saying you don't like slash or OC romances and hope I burn in hell for writing one. Cause then I will direct you right back here and say 'I told you so.' Then you'll look pretty stupid, and that's never fun.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me in any shape, form or fashion. They all sprang from the brilliant mind of J.R.R. Tolkien. Well, except for Ylana. She belongs to my pet, black-winged demon, so you'll have to fight him for her. And I'll warn you, he bites. The story titles does not belong to me. Heck, neither do the chapter titles. They all belong to T.S. Elliot. Now, with all that stuff said and done, on with the show!  
  
-------------------  
  
World's End  
  
Prologue  
  
---------------------  
  
For Thine is the Kingdom  
  
For Thine is  
  
Life is  
  
For Thine is the  
  
This is the way the world ends  
  
This is the way the world ends  
  
This is the way the world ends  
  
Not with a bang but a whimper  
  
------------------T.S. Elliot  
  
----------------------  
  
Is this how it's going to end?  
  
This is one possibility that never crossed my mind. Silence. Naught but a whisper to mark the passing from life to death. It seems to unfair to our kind.  
  
I have been a warrior myself for the past thirteen years. Before then, I served as both daughter and sister to renowned warriors. I have been raised on tales of glory and have been the subject of a few tales of my own. Not a story has ever been told to a wide-eyed child of any race that did not involve an Elf. Even the Dwarves have not forgotten us in their stories, though we are not always portrayed in a positive light. We are mystical, ethereal beings untouched by time. Everything we do is nothing short of extraordinary.  
  
Even our deaths.   
  
Elves can only die of two different means: in battle or of a broken heart. Disease is a concept that we simply do not understand.   
  
At least until now.  
  
How could this have happened? Never once have I heard of an Elf becoming sick. But, as I once again stand at the entrance to my beautiful home, they are all around me. Sick Elves. Dying Elves.  
  
We had hoped that he was the only one, that it hadn't spread, but there are so many others... Some whom I have never seen, some whose faces spark memories, some whose names pass my lips, some I have known since childhood, and two... Two I love. One is a friend, and the other is a long-time companion. But I want him to be so much more...  
  
How could this be happening? They are both strong, had fought many battles that seemed impossible and come out on top. Both were known throughout Middle-Earth as warriors with unsurpassable skill. Neither should have succumbed to this new darkness so quickly.  
  
And what of me? What of my own continuing sagas of glory? I am one but a few female Elven warriors on Middle-Earth, a hero in the eyes of my people. Is this to be my fate as well? Is my world to end, not with the bang that I expected, but a soft whimper?  
  
----------Ylana Fairylight 


	2. We Whisper Together

Disclaimer: They still don't belong to me. And after all my hard work, too. _pouts  
_  
Warnings: In case you didn't read the prologue, or are one of those people who like to have things repeated, this story will have slash and an OC romance. Don't like it, don't read it. Nuff said.  
  
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World's End  
  
Chapter 1: We Whisper Together  
  
------------------  
  
The Man stood on a rocky hill, eyes shaded as he stared up at the towering mountains before him. At one mountain in particular.  
  
Caradhras. Cruel Caradhras.  
  
_Tomorrow_, he thought grimly. _Tomorrow we start the climb for the Redhorn Gate. It will be a difficult climb, especially for the hobbits. At least it is better than the other path we could have taken...  
_  
A shudder rippled his frame. Weather from the whispering wind or his dark thoughts, he was not sure.  
  
"Aragorn?"  
  
That voice, soft and tinged with music, brought the Ranger back to his present situation. Turning, he smiled a greeting to the blond, blue eyed creature that was approaching him on silent feet. "Greetings, mellon-nin. (1) I trust that all is well with our companions?"  
  
Legolas Greenleaf smiled in return, his eyes sparkling. "Aye...if you call the Dwarf's grumbling of the cold weather well."  
  
"I heard that, ya stinkin' faerie!" came a gruff voice from behind the two.  
  
Aragorn had to laugh, causing Legolas's smile to widen. It had been too long since they had had any amusement, and he would gladly use any excuse to taunt the Dwarf.  
  
"I would not use the name of the Faerie so lightly, Master Gimli," came yet another voice. It was as soft and musical as Legolas's, but possessing a lightness that clearly marked it as female. "They do not like their name to be slandered, and I can assure you that you do not wish to call the wrath of the Faerie down upon you!"  
  
Gimli the Dwarf let out a snort, but Aragorn noted that it was softer than the one reserved for Legolas. "I am sure I would, my Lady, if the Faerie were something more than children's tales."  
  
Both Elf and Man turned just in time to see yet another etheral being---this one a female with long dark hair and silver eyes---come to stand at the Dwarf's side.  
  
Ylana Fairylight of Rivendell---one of the few female Elven warriors of Middle-Earth---lifted a cool eyebrow. "Can you be so sure of that? After all, hobbits, if I am not mistaken, are known only as children's tales in nearly every corner of the world. Yet there are four of them that sit around you at this very moment."  
  
Gimli blinked as a deep shade of red began to spread across his cheeks. "Well...I..."  
  
This time, Ylana's musical laughter mixed in with that of Aragorn and Legolas's. The Dwarf, muttering to himself, went back to the business of smoking his pipe. The four creatures that sat around him, also smoking, were too involved in a game of stones to even realize that they had been mentioned.  
  
Off from the others sat an elderly man clothed in grey robes and a tall, pointed hat. he was chatting amiably with a younger Man, who was dressed in Gondorian finery. They, too, were enjoying their pipes.  
  
Ylana was still chuckling as she made her way to her two companions. "While I do hate picking on the poor Dwarf"---here she shot a pointed look at Legolas, who had enough good graces to look down---"I never pass up a chance to put someone in their place."  
  
"You haven't changed a bit since I last saw you," Aragorn said, grey eyes twinkling.  
  
"And might I remind you that you took quickly to the habit yourself?"  
  
"Yes, but I didn't go around doing it on purpose," the Man shot back in his own defense. "I mainly used it as a way of revenge. Especially on the twins."  
  
"Oh, really? Well, I seem to remember a time when you..."  
  
Legolas tuned the voices out as he stared up at the mountains. He always hated these situations, for it caused of jealousy to appear in his stomach when the two spoke of their time together.  
  
Legolas and Aragorn had been best friends all of the Man's life, seeing themselves more as brothers than simple comrades. But Legolas had dwelled in Mirkwood while Aragorn was being raised in Rivendell. While the two spent as much time together as possible, Legolas was not there to take part in many of the pranks the young human had played on his foster brothers. Ylana, as Arwen's best friend, had been there to witness them all.  
  
A slight sigh escaped his lips, one that not even an Elf could hear. _Aragorn is so lucky. He has a wonderful home and family to return to when this is over. That is, if he doesn't take the throne of Gondor and marry Arwen right away.  
_  
There was a violent twisting in his stomach at this thought, but he stubbornly ignored it, keeping his mind on the problems he already faced.  
  
_Where will_ I _go once this Quest has ended? Certainly not to Mirkwood...  
_  
This saddened the young prince immensely, for he loved the woods of his home greatly. But he couldn't bear the thought of seeing him again. Especially not so soon.  
  
The 'him' in question was Annolir Lightbringer, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood and Legolas's older brother.  
  
Thinking about the other Elf who was so alike him in appearance made Legolas shudder. He didn't want to think about the person who had once been his beloved gwanur. (2) Not after what he'd done.  
  
Almost unconsciously, he lifted a pale hand to touch a slender throat. _At least I got my voice back. And it no longer hurts to talk. I only wish the rest of me would heal as quickly.  
_  
His hand fell away from his throat and he began to absently pluck at the silver tunic he wore. It was not as comfortable as his Elvish clothing, and it was much too large for him. His own clothing had been shredded beyond repair, so he had had no choice but to take what was offered him in the human city of Terin. He didn't care, really. As long as they covered his scarred body and, more importantly, his scarred soul.  
  
Behind him, the banter had ceased as Aragorn and Ylana watched their companion in concern. They were always afraid when Legolas lapsed into these silences, fearing that he was turning in on himself once more after they had worked so hard to bring him out of his shell.  
  
"Legolas?" Aragorn called softly. "What is troubling you, mellon-nin? And don't you dare say that it is nothing. You have promised not to play that game with me any more."  
  
The blond-haired Elf turned and offered a smile. "Do not worry, Estel," he said quietly as Ylana walked away, sensing that the two wished to be alone. "I was merely thinking of home, wondering what it would be like if I ever was to return. I wonder what Ada would think when he saw me? (3) Would Annolir have tried to despoil me in my father's eyes? Would Annolir himself be there? If he was, what would I say to him?"  
  
The Ranger placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, taking a moment to marvel at the tingling sensation he go when they two of them touched. "I may not know your father all that well, but I do know that he loves you. My own Ada tells me of how often he speaks of how proud he is of you. As for Annolir... I would great him with a knife through his heart."  
  
Legolas chuckled. "You have become much too violent to be Eldar-raised." Here he shook his head, sending his golden-blond hair flying. "Try as I might, I cannot find it in my heart to hate him. He acted out of desperation, and for that I pity him."  
  
Aragorn bowed his head, respecting his friend's feelings. But his heart lay along a different path. The Ranger had already promised himself that, next time they crossed paths, Annolir Lightbringer would not escape without first feeling Aragorn's fingers around his neck. "Then you are stronger and more forgiving than I, my friend."  
  
Legolas lifted an eyebrow at these words. "Are my ears deceiving me? Or did you just admit that I'm better than you at something?"  
  
"Absolutely not!" Aragorn protested, eyes glittering. "I merely said you were stronger, not better. You'll never best me in anything, Elf!"  
  
Legolas laughed, and Aragorn felt a warm glow spread throughout his body. It had been too long since he had heard that sound.  
  
It was not without justification that Aragorn desired to see the elder Prince of Mirkwood dead. He had hurt his brother, betrayed him in the worst possible way. And it had nearly destroyed Legolas.  
  
Aragorn still wasn't sure it hadn't.  
  
When the two gwador had again crossed paths some months back in Rivendell, Aragorn had noticed something different about Legolas. (4) Elrond, his foster-father, had told him of the attack on the younger prince. Aragorn had been horrified by the news, but that wasn't what was bothering him. Something troubled Legolas, and it troubled him greatly.  
  
When they had set off with the rest of the Fellowship for the Quest for Mount Doom, Aragorn had watched as Legolas retreated from them more and more each day. He rarely spoke, didn't smile and would become unnaturally aggressive. It made Aragorn feel utterly helpless. His best friend was slipping further and further away from him, and there was nothing he could do about it.  
  
Then they had hit upon a stroke of good luck. Ylana Fairylight, Aragorn's childhood friend from Rivendell, had appeared with a warning. Strange Orcs were spewing from Isengard in search of Legolas Greenleaf. When Aragorn's betrothed, Arwen had heard this, she had begged her father, Lord Elrond, to call her best friend back from patrol duty and send her to warn the Company. Thus did Ylana meet with them, swearing to stay by their side as long as she was needed.  
  
Aragorn was overjoyed. Not only was getting to spend time with a friend he had not seen for some time, but it seemed as though the she-Elf was beginning to pull Legolas out of his cloud.  
  
One day, however, Legolas had been plagued by some spell. Ylana, trained in the ways of the mind, had offered to his shield his thoughts from those that would exploit them. Legolas agreed. But while working her natural magick, she had hit on a touchy subject and Legolas had withdrawn even further. For the next few days, the male Elf was colder than ever. He rarely spoke to Ylana, and even then simply addressed her by her title, never by name.  
  
Then Aragorn had confronted him. When he had begged Legolas to let him help, it ended in an argument that led to Legolas pushing him away.  
  
But all that changed when the Wargs attacked. Legolas had been injured in that skirmish and, despite the way he had been treating her, it was Ylana who had come to his aide. While Aragorn sat by his side, Ylana had tended to the prince's wounds. Friendships were saved and hope was restored.  
  
Unfortunately, hope alone could not kept Legolas from being taken from them when the Uruk-hai had attacked the next morning.  
  
While at Orthanc, Legolas had been tortured and had his voice stripped away. And all because of his jealous brother.  
  
Aragorn shook his head, driving the thoughts away. _Now's not the time. Legolas is back with us, and he's all right. We have more pressing matters than Annolir to deal with at the moment. Like getting up this mountain!  
_  
"Come!" he said, giving his friend a bright smile. "I believe that we will be having dinner shortly, and I wish to eat before these ravenous hobbits devour it all!"  
  
----------------  
  
Dinner was a lively event. Merry and Pippin were singing at the tops of their lungs, and were dancing so close to the fire that Ylana was afraid that they would singe their foot hairs. The rest of the Company, their bellies full of the delicious stew that Sam had prepared, were laughing at the antics of the two hobbits. Boromir even made an attempt to join them, which made the others laugh all the harder.  
  
When the laughter had finally died down, everyone began to drift away. Some went to talk, others went to wash themselves in the nearby stream. And so it was that Gandalf was sitting alone when Ylana approached him.  
  
"Gandalf?" she said quietly, folding her legs underneath her so that she could sit at his side. "May I speak with you?"  
  
The wizard offered her a kindly smile. "Gladly! You know that I always enjoy pleasant company."  
  
"I'm afraid it might not be so pleasant," she said with a sigh. "It's about the girl I saw at Terin, the one from Angmar. When Legolas said that her name was Aislyn, you spoke of knowing something about her. Who is she, Gandalf? And what does she have to do with all of this?"  
  
Gandalf was silent. Ylana was beginning to fear he wasn't going to answer her question when the wizard let out a sigh. "How much do you know of Angmar, Ylana?"  
  
She shook her head. "Not much, I'm afraid. It was destroyed before I was born. I do know that the entire population was basically evil, and that everyone possessed magickal skills of considerable strength. Also, Sauron's lieutenant---the lead Ringwraith---was once the Witch-King of Angmar. That's about it."  
  
"That is enough," he assured her. "What I have to say involves the Witch-King. Or so I think it does."  
  
The Elf frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
"When Angmar still stood, the Witch-King had a family. A wife, three sons and a daughter named Aislyn. Despite what some may think, the Witch-King was very close to his family. Especially his daughter. It was even rumored that, when the Witch-King fell under Sauron's shadow and became a Ringwraith, she used her magick to bind herself to him so that they would be together for all eternity." He shook his head. "I had thought them to be nothing more than rumors, but now it seems as though it is true after all."  
  
"But why? Why wait until now to come back and make her presence known?"  
  
Gandalf shrugged. "Revenge, perhaps?"  
  
If so, why is she allying herself with Saruman, who is so closely linked with the one who made her father what he is?"  
  
He sighed. "I'm afraid that I have no more answers for you, Ylana. I wish I did, for I fear she has some part yet to play."  
  
"So do I," she replied grimly. "And that's what worries me."  
  
'Well, there's nothing we can do about it at the moment, and I'm more worried about how we're going to get up that mountain." That kindly smile was turned to her once more. "Get some rest, my dear. Boromir's offered to take watch tonight, and you will need your strength. Tomorrow we shall begin the climb, and hope that the mountain doesn't not seek to destroy us."  
  
"Is there no other way?" the Elf asked softly. "Aragorn spoke of another Road, though he seems to be afraid of it."  
  
"And with good reason. It is a dark path, and I do not wish to take it unless we absolutely have to. Though I'm beginning to wonder if it would not have been the better route."  
  
"I understand. And now I shall take my leave of you." Ylana gracefully climbed to her feet. "Idh mae, Mithrandir," she murmured softly, offering a bow before moving away, leaving the wizard to his thoughts. (5)  
  
--------------------------------  
  
(1) mellon-nin-------------------my friend  
  
(2) gwanur----------------------brother  
  
(3) Ada-------------------------father  
  
(4) gwador---------------------sworn brothers  
  
(5) Idh mae----------------------rest well 


	3. In the Wind's Singing

Hi again! I just wanted to let you all know that you are more than welcome to leave a review. If you love it, hate it, want to offer helpful, constructive criticism, anything. I love to get the hate ones. They are usually fraught with terrible grammar, and when I'm feeling bad, I read them and laugh. So just drop a line if you feel like it. If you don't, that's fine too. I just hope you enjoy the story!

Warning: Will be slash and OC romance eventually.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. The characters all belong to Tolkien, except for Ylana, who is claimed by my pet demon. I'm not about to fight him for her. The title of both story and chapters come from the brilliant mind of poet T.S. Elliot

World's End

Chapter 2: In the Wind's Singing

Dawn rose clear and cold, the wind raw and biting, leaving pink cheeks and runny noses in its wake.

The hobbits huddled close together, sitting as near to the fire as was possible without burning themselves. Boromir, Aragorn, Gandalf and Gimli were wrapped up tight in their cloaks. Only the Elves seemed unaffected by the weather, bringing more grumbling from the Dwarf.

"What we need is some good, strong Green Dragon ale," Merry managed to mutter through chattering teeth. "That never fails to warm your bones."

"It's not my bones that need warming," Pippin reminded his cousin. "It's the rest of me that's turning blue!"

The two Elves, sitting back so that the Mortals could be closer to the fire, shared a smile. The antics of those who shared weakness that their kind couldn't even begin to comprehend always amazed them.

"I'm afraid that you must get used to the cold," Gandalf told them. "The temperature will drop lower and lower the higher we climb."

This brought groans from all those sitting around the fire, and Ylana was barely able to contain a giggle. Legolas gave a slight chuckle, unheard by all save his Elvish companion.

"Perhaps a hot meal would do?" Aragorn suggested with raised eyebrows, knowing how much the hobbits loved to eat.

Sure enough, the hobbits perked up at this. Keeping their cloaks wrapped tightly about them, they began scurrying around to prepare a breakfast of bacon and tomatoes. As they did, the rest of the Fellowship broke up into groups. Gandalf, as he was often prone to do, went off on his own. Gimli and Boromir moved in to speak with one another in low murmurs, while Aragorn came to sit by the Elves.

Ylana, her ever-watchful eyes sweeping over the Company, felt her lips turn up in a smile. "They never break tradition, do they?" she said softly. "Gandalf usually sits alone, unless someone has a question for him. The hobbits are always together, and Boromir and Gimli have been keeping each other company for some time now. And you two are very rarely apart. Perhaps routine is a good way to keep your wits about yourself when you are far from home."

"Indeed it does," Aragorn replied, facing her. "And what of you, Ylana Fairylight? Whose company do you prefer to keep?"

She turned and offered him a lazy smile. "The same Company that I have kept for the past thirteen years: my own. There is no point in getting too deeply attached to anyone. I am not part of this Fellowship, and there is no knowing when I may leave. My heart, as always, is mine to keep."

Legolas blinked at her, shocked that she could seem so carefree in everyday life, but in reality be this introverted.

Aragorn, however, didn't look surprised. Apparently, it was something he had heard from the girl before. "You really haven't changed much."

She shrugged. "It has been my way for the past thirteen years, and I have no regrets." She smiled and turned her sparkling silver eyes to Legolas. 'And, with my friends around, I am far from lonely."

The male Elf nodded and returned the smile. _What an interesting creature!_

The smell of frying bacon reached them, causing the three Companions to look to the fire. The hobbits were once again gathered around it, and seemed intent on the frying pan that lay in the middle of it.

Aragorn had to chuckle. "Sometime it's a wonder to me that hobbits aren't these huge, round creatures. I have never seen anyone eat so much in my life!"

"I am just glad that they know how to cook," Legolas said with a twinkle in his eyes. "I must admit that it is not one of my stronger points. Ada always jokes that I'll have to find a partner who knows how to cook. (1) Else I'd end up starving to death."

They all laughed at that, even though Aragorn knew that the Elf had enough skills to survive on his own out in the wild.

Ylana lifted her arms above her head and stretched, reminding Aragorn sharply of a cat. "I must admit that I will be extremely happy when we have passed over this mountain. There will be very few trees along the way, and I don't find sleeping on rocky ground very comfortable."

"I don't think any of us do," Aragorn remarked dryly.

"This is true…"

Boromir and Gimli were moving ever closer to the fire and the food. When the human tried to sneak in and grab a tomato, Merry smacked his hand away.

"I am glad to see that they are staying in good spirits," Ylana said softly. "I have never attempted Caradhras, but I have climbed mountains before. It is not an easy task, even for Elf-kind. They have no idea what lies before them."

"The mountain will be the least of our worries," Aragorn replied grimly. "We still have to find a way into Mordor. There's no way we'll make it unnoticed."

"But we'll try," Legolas said in determination. "It is not in my nature to give up without a fight."

"Nor mine," Aragorn and Ylana chorused together, causing the three friends to share a smile.

"Come and get it!" came a call from the fire. "Better hurry before Boromir eats it all."

The entire Company laughed as Boromir let out a growl before pouncing on Merry, and then moved in to share breakfast.

* * *

Frodo was freezing. The wind was strong and it buffeted them mercilessly, driving them deeper and deeper into their cloaks. And it wasn't even snowing yet!

Sam, Merry and Pippin walked on either side of him, grumbling about the cold and how hungry they were, even though it hadn't been two hours since they had eaten breakfast. Gandalf lead the way, followed by Gimli, who was walking alone to prove he wasn't cold. Behind him were Boromir and Ylana, followed by the hobbits and Bill the Pony. Aragorn and Legolas brought up the rear.

Once again, Frodo found himself fascinated by the Elves. Neither of them were wearing cloaks, having loaned them to the hobbits for extra warmth. Legolas wore only the tunic and leggings he had received in Terin, while Ylana was clad in nothing more than her dirty and torn riding dress. Their cheeks were faintly pink, but that seemed to be the only imprint the cold left on them. His uncle Bilbo had told him that Elves were unaffected by the weather unless they chose to be, but Frodo had chalked it up to Bilbo's extensive imagination. Now, however, it seemed as though the old hobbit had been right.

"I am really beginning to miss home about right now," Merry muttered from Frodo's right. His face was bright red, and his lips were beginning to crack. "It never gets this cold in the Shire. It rarely even snows there, not even in the winter!" He ended with a sneeze.

On Merry's other side, Pippin was shivering uncontrollably.

"It's your own fault," Frodo reminded him. "If you hadn't stuck your nose in where it didn't belong, then you would be sitting comfortably in the Shire right now."

"Pardon us, Mr. Frodo, but we couldn't just let you go off on your own," came Sam's voice from Frodo's right.

Frodo turned a smile onto his best friend. "And I thank you for it from the deepest places of my heart. But there's no use in complaining about the weather. There's nothing we can do about it."

The elected another grumble from Merry.

Walking behind the hobbits, Aragorn couldn't help but smile as their words were carried to him on the wind. "Those four never cease to amaze me," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "This is the first time they have left their home, and they've seen some things that would give a hardened warrior nightmares. Yet they continue on without too much complaint, doing whatever is necessary to see that Frodo completes his Quest. They have hope, even when the rest of us do not."

"But we always have hope," Legolas reminded his friend with a smile. "You were not given the name hope without reason, Estel."

Aragorn let out a sigh, and Legolas wished he had kept his mouth shut. It had sounded as though the weight of the world was in that sigh.

"I wonder, Legolas," the Ranger said softly. "I get so afraid sometimes. What if I am tempted as Isildur was, and what if I fall was well? How can I lead a people who will no doubt hate me for hiding in the shadows for so long? What if I take the throne of Gondor only to find that I am an incompetent king?" he shook his head. "Elrond keeps pushing me to accept my destiny, and I know that he only wants what's best for Middle-Earth. But he doesn't understand my worries. Arwen tried to help, but she doesn't understand either." He briefly closed his eyes. "I am supposed to be hope, yet I have none of my own."

Legolas reached out to place a hand on his friend's arm. "I have faith in you, mellon-nin. (2) I shall follow you down whatever path you choose, be it death or glory. Wherever you go, I shall follow. And I will never think twice about it."

Aragorn said nothing, but reached up and took the hand Legolas had placed on his arm. He gave it a squeeze, brushed his thumb across the back, and then dropped it.

Fire was racing up Legolas's arm at the contact, and he felt so disappointed when Aragorn let go. _Just as well. He might begin to suspect something if you tried to prolong the contact. And I don't want to give Ylana any ideas that she can share with Arwen. I will not destroy Aragorn's life._

Legolas couldn't deny that he often felt sick at the thought of Arwen and Aragorn together, but he told himself that it was simply because he and his friend would drift apart once the two were wed. "_Down whichever path," _he had said. And he would hold to that, even if it meant that his heart would be broken.

A slight sigh escaped his lips. Aragorn, lost in his own thoughts, never heard him. _When did I change? I used to never have such dark thoughts. Even when it seemed as though Mirkwood would fall to the darkness that has consumed its southern portion, I still held a measure of hope. Could this be a product of my brother's treachery?_ A smile twisted his lips. _Or does it come from spending so much time with mortals?_

Not for the first time in his long life, Legolas wondered what it would be like to give his heart to a mortal. He had never been one to pursue love, thinking that it would come to him instead. His father had not pressed him on the matter, for which he was thankful. However, he had always believed that his partner would be an Elf.

He had never had much to do with Men until he had met three-year-old Estel, the sad0eyed little boy that had been brought to Rivendell by his mother after his father was killed.

Legolas had immediately become fascinated with the child, spending as much time with him as he could. For his part, Estel quickly became attached to the prince of Mirkwood. One of his favorite things to do was run up, tug at the Elf's long locks, then run away laughing, inviting Legolas to chase him around Imladris. As she lay dying, Gillrean had asked Legolas to look after her son as he grew up. He swore to stand by Estel until the Man's last breath had been used.

But he had never thought he would see that boy as anything other than a friend. And to willingly give his heart to him…

_Arwen made that sacrifice without as much so much as a blink, _he thought sadly. _And I will not degrade that sacrifice by making Aragorn chose between his Elf princess and his Silent Guard. I will simply carry out my promise to his mother, no matter what the cost to myself._

* * *

Clouds hung low in the sky, yet no snow fell. Though the Company was overjoyed by this, Gandalf warned them not to get their hoped up. They were only at the base of the mountain, and it would take them many days to reach the path that would lead to the Redhorn Gate. The snow would come.

Lunch was short, much to the hobbits' dismay. But they did not grumble when Gandalf told them that they needed to make use of what daylight they had. It was the middle of winter, and nights approached must faster. Unless they wanted to spend weeks on the mountain, they would have to take short lunches, often without a fire.

Seeing their crestfallen looks, Ylana laughed as she ruffled Pippin's hair. "Do not worry so, my friends. Shorter days mean more sleep. Or a longer dinner, if you choose. You will be able to share more of your Shire songs."

Pippin's face brightened. "Or you could tell us one of _your _stories! Please, Ylana? It's been so long since you told us anything."

She laughed and offered a bow. "Very well then, Master Took. I shall play storyteller tonight."

Aragorn groaned at this. "By the Valar, not again! Every time that wicked Elf spins a tale, she usually winds up embarrassing me."

Legolas lifted an eyebrow and offered a bit of a smirk. "Then you should be relieved that it is not I doing the telling. For I can recall a time or two when you were sure you would nearly die of shame. And I was right there to see it all."

The Ranger turned a horrified look onto his friend. "You wouldn't!"

The Elf didn't answer, which caused the poor human to worry all the more. "Legolas? Legolas!"

Frodo blinked as he saw Legolas suddenly dash off with a laugh, Aragorn running after him shouting what the hobbit guessed to be Elvish curses. "I wonder what's gotten into them?"

Gimli, also watching the two, snorted disdainfully. "Elves."

* * *

Night did indeed catch them much quicker than Gandalf liked, but he knew better than to try and travel after dark. So they built a fire, cooked dinner, and sat around Ylana for the promised story. "What would you like to hear?" she asked, sitting on a log with the hobbits on the ground in front of her, close to the warmth of the fire.

Aragorn kept his eyes on the ground, expecting someone to ask for a story about her time with him as they usually did. This time, however, he was in for a surprise. They all were.

"I heard you talking about faeries earlier," came Sam's hopeful voice. "Are they real? Please, Miss Fairylight. I want to hear about them."

Ylana laughed in delight. "I would love to tell you about them, Sam. And yes, they are real. They just prefer to stay hidden."

"What do they look like?" Pippin asked. "I've heard they're only a few inches tall with wings like hummingbirds and glow in the dark."

Merry scoffed at this. "Who told you that? Ted Sandyman? Because you're wrong. Faeries are the same height as us, wear pointed hats and pointed shoes, and you can see right through their wings."

"Actually, you're both wrong," Ylana said with a sparkle in her eyes. "They look very much like Elves, except that their eyes are slanted and they have wings. Here." She reached up and unclasped a chain that hung around her neck. 'Arwen gave me this for my birthday after my mother died. It's a faerie and, since I was named after faeries, she deemed it appropriate."

She handed the pendant to Frodo, and all the hobbits crowded in to look at it.

It was an exquisitely carved woman, with gracefully pointed ears and slanted eyes. Her hair fell past her shoulders in waves, and a pair of beautifully tattered wings sprouted from her back. If you looked hard enough, it almost seemed as if her dress was rippling with the wind.

"I remember when Arwen gave you that," Aragorn said softly. "She was so excited about it. That was all she talked about for weeks! But then she was afraid that it would remind you of your mother and make you upset."

"It is the best gift that I have ever been given," she told him, taking it back from Frodo and immediately clasping it around her neck once more.

"You said that the faeries were in hiding." That was Merry. "Why?"

Ylana sighed, and a look of sadness crossed her face. "Faeries are fiercely independent creatures. They cannot stand to be tied to anything. And they are full of magick, wondrous magick! They can change their appearance at will. Look into your mind and become whatever they see there. That's what is known as faerie glamour. Also, they can affect nature in a way that the Elves can only dream of. They simply have to touch a flower to make it bloom. But many humans---and, I'm sorry to say---Elves as well found this useful. So they began to capture them by the hundreds.

"The Faerie were already a reluctant people, as this proved to be the knife that cut the ties they had with the peoples of Middle-Earth."

"But you've seen one, right?" Merry asked, his eyes glued to the she-Elf.

"I've not only seen one, I happen to be good friends with one."

They all gasped at this. "Really?" Frodo breathed. "But how? You said they've gone into hiding!"

"They let themselves be seen every once in awhile," Ylana explained. "They like to remind people that they are here. And, I think, to remind us of our mistake. Every now and then, someone will stumble into a faerie glenn, which serves as the portal between our world and theirs. But you must be careful. A day in the Faerie Realm often ends up being a year or more here."

She now had their complete attention. "I've heard stories about that," Frodo said. "There was this hobbit back home. Camilla Grubb was her name. She disappeared one day when she was very young, then came back twenty years later, not looking the least bit older. She said that she had been playing with the faeries, but hadn't been gone for more than two days."

"How did you ever meet one?" was Sam's question.

"Through my mother," the Elf answered softly. "There's a pool in Rivendell that's a good distance from the city itself. Aragorn knows where it is. My mother played there often as a child. When her close friend from Mirkwood was killed by a spider, she often went to the pool to cry.

"Unbeknownst to her, there was a faerie glenn close by. A young Faerie, curious about the outside world, heard her crying and came to comfort her. They sat and talked for hours, and became fast friends. They stayed that way for the rest of Mother's life. When she got married, it was the first time in years that a faerie had been seen in the public eye.

"Since her firstborn was a son, Mother let Father chose Gallas's name. But when she learned she was to have a girl, she said her name was to be Fairylight in honor of her friend. And so…Here I am!

"Rowan---that's her name---was always around when I was younger. I was fascinated with her wings. I used to want a pair of my own! After Mother died, she went back to her glenn. But she has promised to come if ever I am to call for her."

"What is she like?" all four hobbits asked at once.

Ylana laughed at their enthusiasm. "Well, she is very childlike. She's curious about everything. And she speaks in chirps, like a bird. When she uses words, it's in a very high pitched voice, and she doesn't string her sentences together. Her hair is green, and her eyes are blue."

Sam sighed wistfully. "I sure wish I could meet a faerie."

"Perhaps you will one day. I don't want to call on Rowan unless I need her. She has her own life to live. But that is enough stories for one day. We should take advantage of this early night and get some extra sleep. I will keep watch."

The others began to pack the dinner things away and stake out their sleeping grounds. The hobbits thanked Ylana for the story, and Aragorn kissed her on the cheek for not embarrassing him. That made her laugh.

Soon all were settled down. Soft words could be heard from all over the camp. The fire danced, casting eerie shadows all about them. Ylana sat in a tree, watching. Her eyes seemed to keep finding their way back to a particular pair who were sitting a little ways from the fire.

Aragorn kept his cloak wrapped around him as he and Legolas stared up into the sky. "The clouds are becoming thicker," the Ranger said softly. "Looks like the snow may reach us by morning."

The Elf shrugged. "We knew it would happen eventually, and we've been fortunate to get this far without it."

"Aye." Though he kept his face to the stars, Aragorn was watching his Elvish companion out of the corner of his eye. He felt his pulse quicken at the sight of what starlight there was highlighting Legolas's hair, making it appear to be spun from gold. "Would you lie beside me tonight? It is too cold."

Legolas fixed him with a glare. "You know as well as I do that I do not feel the cold, human."

Aragorn chuckled. "It is not for your benefit, mellon-nin. I was talking of myself. I am not as young as I used to be, and I can feel the cold in my bones more acutely these days."

"Oh." Legolas felt his face flush, and he silently chided himself for losing his temper so quickly. _If only Aragorn knew what that simple request does to me! _"I am not sure that's appropriate, Estel."

Aragorn frowned. "What do you mean? We used to do it all the time while out traveling together. In fact, unless my memory is worse than I thought, you've saved my life more than once by lying next to me to keep me warm. What's so different about now?"

"Things have changed," Legolas said softly, nodding at the Evenstar pendant that was gleaming softly from its place at the base of Aragorn's throat.

The Ranger closed his eyes and silently cursed, fighting the urge to reach up and yank the thing off. He wished that she had taken it when he offered it to her back in Rivendell. It wasn't that he didn't cherish it and the sacrifice that she was willing to make for him. But he never would have taken it if he had known it would come between him and his best friend.

He opened his eyes and turned enough to stare at the Elf. "You are still my closest, most trusted friend," he said in a quiet voice. "That's all that matters to me, and that's _never _going to change. But if that's the way you wish it…"

He moved enough so that he could lie down, wrapped his cloak tightly about him, and closed his eyes. He made sure to lay facing he fire, knowing that Legolas always slept facing away from the others so as not to frighten them with his open eyes. Aragorn only hoped that the Elf would recognize the gesture for what it was and come lay beside him.

He waited for a long moment, straining his ears to hear any sound other than the wind's mournful singing. When h didn't, he felt his heart begin to sink.

But, just as he was about to give up, he heard a soft sigh and the faintest shifting of rocks. Not a moment later, Aragorn felt a back press to his as Legolas lay at his side.

The Ranger let out a contented sigh. "Hanna le, mellon-nin," he murmured drowsily. (3) The warmth radiating from the Elf was comforting, and he soon found himself fast asleep.

Up in her tree, Ylana could not help but smile as she watched her two friends. Thanks to her Elvish hearing, she had heard every word and, perhaps, the hidden meanings behind them. _It looks as though Lord Elrond was wrong. Forgive me, Arwen. But I will not stand in the way of Fate._

(1)Ada----------------------Father

(2) mellon-nin-------------my friend

(3) Hanna le----------------thank you


	4. Dead Land

Yeah, I'm back. I guess you guys are wondering if I'll ever go away. Probably not. I don't have much of a life anymore, so I sit and write all day, then post it on here in hopes someone will read it. LOL.

Warnings: Hopefully, you've read them by now. If not….Then what on earth are you doing here in Chapter 3?

Disclaimer: It's been about a week, and I still haven't managed to own them. I suppose I never will, and I'll just have to deal with it.

World's End

Chapter 3: Dead Land

A faint dusting of snow already covered everything---including them---when the Company next awoke. And though they knew it would eventually become a hindrance, they couldn't help but be enchanted by it.

The flakes that fell from the sky were large, white and sparkled like crystals in the pre-dawn light. The wind had died down, and a breathless silence had fallen over the land.

As Legolas slowly climbed to his feet, he couldn't help but look around in wonder. _It's so beautiful, _he thought. _Like magick._

As the others watched in amazement, Legolas threw out his arms and began spinning in circles. His heart felt so light, as though he hadn't a care in the world.

He stopped and stood still, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Before it was completely gone, however, something hit him in the back, causing him to topple to the ground. A very wet and cold something.

Quick as a flash, the Elf was on his feet again, a snowball already in hand.

Aragorn hadn't been able to contain his laughter after throwing the snowball at his friend. He had never intended to knock Legolas over, but the look on the Elf's face had been priceless. Now he couldn't quit laughing.

At least, not until the snowball crashed into his chest.

For a long moment, Aragorn simply stared at the offending ball of frozen water as it slid off of his chest, leaving behind a very large wet spot. Then he lifted his eyes to meet those of Legolas, who had a smirk on his face.

A loud roar shattered the peaceful silence. "I'm going to get you for that, Elf!" Aragorn shouted, scooping up a handful of the snow that was growing thicker by the minute. With a laugh, Legolas darted forward, Aragorn fast on his heels.

The snowball fight had now broken out in earnest. The hobbits were running around, dodging flying projectiles thrown by each other was well as Gandalf and Gimli. Ylana had been so absorbed in her amusement of it all that she never realized Boromir was sneaking up on her until he dribbled snow down the back of her dress, causing her to shriek in a very un-Elvish manner and leap to her feet. Very shortly, Legolas wasn't the only one being chased around.

It was sometime later when Legolas collapsed on the ground, breathless from laughter, face flushed from the cold and his wild run. Aragorn fell beside him, eyes shinning. "You still play unfairly, mellon-nin" the Ranger said with a pout. (1) "You never let me catch you as you did when I was a child."

Legolas laughed airily as he lay back, clasping his hands behind his head to form a cradle. "Perhaps I will let you catch me again one day, if I think you are worthy."

Aragorn snorted. "And when will that be? When I am so old that you only have to take two steps to keep away from me? When I'll have to have your help just to walk across the room?"

When no answer---no playful tease---was forthcoming, Aragorn turned to his friend, who was staring up at the falling snow with an unreadable expression. "Legolas?"

The Elf blinked, and then turned to smile at his companion. "You assume too much, Estel," he said lightly. "That is, if you still want me around by then."

Aragorn blinked at him, knowing that there was a hidden meaning somewhere in the Elf's words. But, before he could come up with a clever way to ask, Gandalf demanded their attention. "If you two are _quite _finished with your play, then perhaps you would be so kind as to gather firewood while the other helps me clear a spot for the fire?"

"Indeed I shall!" Legolas cried as he sprang to his feet, nimble as a cat. "Quick as a summer's breeze I will return." And, with that, he darted off into the woods once more.

Gandalf chuckled as Aragorn came to crouch by the wizard, who was attempting to brush off the little bit of snow that lay atop a rocky area. "It is good to see him so happy again."

"It's the snow," Aragorn said softly. "He loves it. He always complains that it doesn't snow enough in Mirkwood, and often spends most of the winter in Rivendell."

"Then perhaps coming up the mountain wasn't such a bad idea after all."

"No," the Ranger answered with a smile, his eyes settling on the woods. "No, it wasn't."

* * *

Though they didn't leave until later in the morning, Gandalf didn't mind. The impromptu snowball fight had done them all good. Especially Legolas, who was beginning to resemble the Elf Gandalf had known prior to the Council of Elrond.

The wizard still did not know what had befallen the boy, and this normally would have had him worried. But, from the way Aragorn had kept a watchful eye on the prince and always tried to keep him in a good mood, Gandalf suspected that Legolas had confided in his human friend. And that was good.

Their spirits high, the Company sat out once more. The snow proved to be something of a hindrance, but it wasn't as bad as they had expected. The hobbits sang, the Elves danced, the humans and wizard laughed, and the Dwarf grumbled. The snow continued to fall lazily from the sky, catching in hair and eyelashes. The hobbits took great delight in trying to catch the big, fluffy flakes on their tongues.

Aragorn couldn't help but walk with an extra bounce in his step, his heart light. The day was beautiful, and the laughter plentiful.

Also, something had happened last night between him and Legolas. A barrier had been broken, an understanding had been reached, a barrier had been crossed… Aragorn wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that it added to his feeling of happiness.

Legolas, too, seemed to have sensed it as well. He would laugh at the slightest thing, and every time their eyes met, he would offer Aragorn a secret smile. Once, he grabbed Ylana and began dancing with her, swirling her around as they laughed in sheer delight.

Aragorn wished it would never end.

But, like all good things, it did. As they climbed higher, the snow fell harder and the wind blew stronger. Soon they were blind, and Pippin could swear that he had an icicle hanging from his nose.

It was then that Frodo noticed that neither of the Elves was having trouble wading through the snow. They weren't having trouble, because they were walking on top of it!

The hobbit wanted to say something about his discovery---yet another of Bilbo's stories proven true---but his teeth were chattering too much for him to even speak.

While the going had finally turned rough, Legolas still seemed to be light-hearted. He would often dash ahead, then return promising that there was not as much snow ahead, or that the path twisted dangerously. He made jokes or would laugh, his breath a white cloud that was suddenly torn away by the wind. Aragorn wasn't sure what kept him going, but was more than happy for it.

He himself was shivering, his hood thrown over his head to protect his face and ears from the harsh wind. He could feel snow forcing its way into his boots, turning his legs and feet numb. He knew he shouldn't complain, though. The hobbits were silent, and they had naught by hair to protect their feet.

"This is madness," Boromir grumbled as he came to Aragorn's side. "We can barely see our hand in front of our faces, the snow is already up past the hobbits' ankles, and if I have to see that damn Elf prance one more time…"

Aragorn couldn't suppress a chuckle at this, for Legolas had indeed been prancing every time he came back from his mad dash forward. "Don't worry, my friend. We'll be stopping soon." He nodded up at the sky, where the Sun was already halfway hidden behind the horizon. "It will be dark soon, and we'll have to set up camp before we're totally blind."

"Good," was the growled reply. "This dead land unnerves me. I don't want to be traversing it unaided by light."

"Me either," Aragorn agreed heartedly. "Me either."

* * *

Legolas was feeling giddy, lightheaded. Like the time he'd drank too much elderberry wine---the strongest form of alcohol for Elves---and jumped onto a table to dance.

Yet he had drank nothing but water that day, so he was clearly not drunk.

It wasn't that it mattered much. He hadn't felt this happy since before his brother's attack months before. His heart was light, and he couldn't keep a smile from his face. If feeling a little strange meant that he could continue being happy, than that was a price he was more than willing to pay.

When Gandalf finally called a halt for the night, the hobbits tumbled to the ground in exhaustion. Legolas challenged Ylana to find more firewood than he before racing off, leaving the others to set up camp for the night.

As Aragorn watched his friend from the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but feel a nagging at the back of his mind that something wasn't quite right. That wasn't the Legolas that he knew…

_Stop that, _he chided himself. _You're worrying about him too much. It's all over now. You got him back, the spell was broken, and he's opened up a bit more. Just a few weeks ago you were worried because he wasn't happy enough, now you're worried because he's _too _happy!_

Still, he couldn't shake that feeling of _wrongness _that was eating at him. _Perhaps I should ask Gandalf._

Aragorn quickly moved to the wizard's side, but before he could say anything, a loud howl echoed in the distance, causing the Ranger's head to snap up and his hand to reach for his sword.

Gandalf sighed. "I fear tonight will be the last fire we'll have for awhile," he said quietly. "Unless it's a matter of life or death, of course. I don't want to draw attention to ourselves unless it's absolutely necessary."

Aragorn nodded. Gandalf was the leader, and he wasn't about to question the decision of an Istari. Besides, that's not what he had come to speak about.

"Gandalf, may I ask you a question?" When the wizard nodded, Aragorn glanced around before lowering his voice. "It's about Legolas."

"Ah. So you've noticed something as well."

"I---I'm not sure." The Ranger frowned. "All day long I've been getting this feeling that there's something…_off. _I just thought that I was still worried because of what happened with---with Saruman." He had to catch himself. He'd nearly said 'with Annolir', but remembered that he was the only one who knew of the elder prince's involvement. "But if you're sensing something as well…"

The wizard let out another sigh. "Like you, I'm not quite sure what it is I'm feeling. But sometimes I can feel the crackle of magick around him. I first noticed it this morning as we started on our way. It's only there for a moment, and then it's gone. But I'm sure I saw it, and more than once."

Aragorn inhaled sharply. "Saruman," he hissed.

But Gandalf was quick to shake is head. "No. No, I don't think so. It doesn't have the same _feel _as Saruman's magick, though it does seem a bit familiar. This magick is much older, though not as strong. The one thing I am sure of is that it is no wizard."

Aragorn felt his shoulders slump at these words. "Then….Is there anything we can do? I just got him back, Gandalf. I don't want to lose him again."

The wizard let out one final, weary sigh and shrugged. "I'm afraid all that we can do is wait. Wait, and hope."

* * *

Rivendell was as beautiful as ever, with the sunlight making its many waterfalls and pools sparkle like gems. The Bruinen River flowed lazily between its banks, and the birds sang happily.

But all was no well within the Elf kingdom. Unbeknownst to all, it was about to get much, much worse.

The sound of labored breathing echoed throughout the chamber, breaking the silence. Normally, this would not have bothered Lord Elrond in the least. He was used to people running into his study out of breath. Usually, it was his sons, searching for a place to hide after pulling a prank on a hapless resident of Rivendell. But the fact that it was continuous and happened to be coming from one of his closest friends worried the Elf Lord greatly.

Finally, he laid aside his quill and looked up, concern evident in his eyes. "Glorfindel, are you all right?"

The High Elf offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "I am fine, my Lord. Just a bit tired, I'm afraid. Just watching the twins is enough to sap me of my energy."

Elrond had to smile at this, knowing that Glorfindel was right. He picked up his quill and continued writing, trying to tell himself that Glorfindel was all right, but that nagging sensation wouldn't go away.

Once he was sure Elrond wasn't looking, Glorfindel closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead, hoping that the dizziness would pass. It always did. Why should this time be any different?

He knew that it was not natural for and Elf to feel this way. He recognized all of his problems---the dizziness, chills, headaches, inability to breathe properly---as the types of symptoms humans developed when they were ill. But Elves did _not _get sick. And he was not about to be the first one to do so. So, being the stubborn Elf that he was, he refused to seek out Elrond's aid.

The dizziness finally abated enough for him to raise his head and open his eyes without the room spinning dangerously. His eyes focused on Elrond, who was still writing and humming a light tune.

Glorfindel had to smile. _He works so much. Yet he never complains, and he always makes time for Elladan and Elrohir. I know that he would do anything for Arwen, and for Estel as well. He's a terrific ruler, and a wonderful father. I know that he wishes he could spend more time with Thranduil---_

He was thrown out of his thoughts by a wave of dizziness that suddenly swept over him, sending him crashing to the floor, knocking over a vase in the process.

"Glorfindel?"

He was barely aware of his name being called. There was a rushing sound in his ears, and try as he might, he could not find the strength to push himself up.

"Glorfindel!"

Everything went black.

* * *

High up in the tower of Orthanc, a white-haired girl sat in a room lit by dozens of candles. All was silent, except for her soft, rhythmic chanting. Her eyes were closed as she sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor.

After awhile, her chanting stopped and she opened her eyes, which were the color of burnished gold and glowed with a light of their own.

A cruel smile twisted her lips.

_And so it begins._

(1)mellon-nin--------------------------my friend


	5. Valley of Dying Stars

A big, huge thank you goes out to those of you who reviewed. I thank you very much for your kind and encouraging comments. You guys absolutely rock!

Please feel free to leave a review. I'm not forcing you, just asking. If you like it, hate it…whatever. Lemme know, if you don't mind!

Warnings: Nothing new!!

Disclaimer: Ditto

World's End

Chapter 4: Valley of Dying Stars

Aragorn kept watch that night, staring relentlessly out into the dark. The howls continued throughout the night, and his sword never once left his hand.

Gandalf had broken the news to the hobbits that they were not going to be able to risk a fire for some time, so they had better enjoy this one. A few protests had made themselves known, but they were cut off by a chorus of wolf howls heard in the distance. Nothing else needed to be said.

There were no songs or tales after dinner this night. The hobbits and Gimli immediately fell into an exhausted sleep, stretched out wherever they could find the room. Boromir followed their example shortly afterwards. Gandalf exchanged a few, quiet words with Aragorn before going off to find his own resting ground. That left the Elves chatting amiably with one another, and the Ranger prowling around for a suitable look-out spot.

He finally decided on a rather large boulder that afforded him a good view of their campsite and the surrounding area. Once comfortable---as comfortable as one could be sitting on a rock in the freezing cold---he turned his eyes to his two friends sitting below him.

Ylana was obviously in the middle to some tale, gesturing emphatically, with Legolas laughing at whatever she was saying. The blizzard had subsided, and now the flakes were spiraling down in lazy circles once more. A few moonbeams managed to break through the clouds, turning the landscape into a glittering wonderland. It was enough to steal one's breath away.

But Aragorn's breath had already been taken.

As if he managed to somehow attract it, some of the Moon's light was shinning directly down onto Legolas. It highlighted his already-pale skin, set his eyes sparkling, and caused the snowflakes trapped in his hair to glitter like gems.

_He's beautiful._

The Man couldn't keep that thought from running through his mind, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. He thought again of Arwen, the promise she had made to him ere the Fellowship was formed. But, even though he was desperately trying to think of his fiancée, he still could not take his eyes off of the male Elf that sat below him.

Ylana reached out to brush an errant lock of hair from the prince's face, and the Ranger felt his heart twist in jealousy. He finally managed to wrench his gaze away from the pair and return it to the surrounding darkness, though it was not without great difficulty.

There were very few trees scattered about, and these were painfully skinny. Aragorn knew that, after tomorrow, there would be no trees left at all. Boromir had voiced the clever idea of carrying wood with them in case they had to have a fire later. Gandalf had agreed that the idea was a sound one, sending the Elves racing forward once again. Tree branches and other odds and ends of wood now lay at the bottom of the packs bore by the humans.

A chittering sound to Aragorn's left suddenly demanded his attention. He watched the scarce brush anxiously, gripping his sword so tightly he could feel his heartbeat in his knuckles. Then he let out a sigh and relaxed when a rabbit bounded out, stopped, sniffed the air, then turned and ran right back into his protective covering. _You are wound too tightly, m'friend._

Another airy laugh floated up to him from the area right below him. He gritted his teeth and went back to clutching the hilt of his sword, but did not look down. He didn't think he could. _And it's no wonder…_

Aragorn had always been completely content with his life. He was a Ranger, out in the wilds of Middle-Earth with those that were left of his bloodline. He would return home to Rivendell ever so often to visit his father, pull pranks with his brothers, and spend time with the love of his life. No one but the Elves knew he was the heir to the throne of Gondor, and while they encouraged him to accept his destiny, no one was forcing him. He was in love with Arwen, and his best friend was the prince of Mirkwood.

Now everything had been turned completely upside down. His destiny as the King of Men was slowly and inescapably creeping up on him, and he was now entertaining feelings for his best friend that he used to feel only by being around his lover.

He massaged the bridge of his nose and let out a weary sigh. _Don't think about all of this right now. You'll only manage to give yourself a headache, and that's a luxury you can't afford._

He was beginning to feel very, very old.

* * *

Mirkwood was in an uproar. There was no better way to describe the atmosphere in the Elven kingdom. It seemed to King Thranduil that, every time he turned around, yet another Elf was being brought to the castle by frantic relatives, victims of the mysterious illness that seemed to be sweeping over the land.

Thranduil---though a proud man----would be the first to admit that he was at a complete loss. He'd always been told that Elves couldn't get sick, and had never seen anything to contradict that belief. At least, not until two days ago when Seridwyn, an old playmate of his younger son, had been brought in by her baffled father. She had a dangerously high fever, and could not be woken by anything or anyone. Another one had been brought in only hours later.

Now the palace was full of Elves, more so than usual. Sick ones, and those that were here to tend to them. He had brought back some of his guards from boarder patrol to place them around the castle. The king knew well that, if any of their enemies were watching and became aware of their situation, now would be the perfect time to launch an attack.

His advisors did everything they possible could to keep him from the main chamber, which had been turned into a sickroom. The last thing Mirkwood needed at the moment was for her ruler to fall ill as well. And, since no one had any way of knowing how this sickness was being spread, they didn't want to take any chances.

But Thranduil had brushed their pleadings aside. He was their _King_, dammit! He was _not _going to stay safely hidden away in the shadows while his people suffered.

So it was that he found himself in his main Audience Hall, now home to thirty sick Elves. Thranduil felt himself fall into what could only be shock. As his eyes fell on each unnaturally pale face with closed eyes, a name sprang easily to his mind. _Sirithwethien, Alcbelethiel, Calenbelethiel, Mortur…I've known them all of their lives!_

His heart suddenly felt very heavy, and it took every ounce of royal pride he possessed not to flop down in the nearest chair, bury his face in his hands and cry.

Not for the first time---and he doubted it would be the last---he desperately wished that his younger son was here as well. Oh, it wasn't that Annolir was standing idly by and letting _commoners _do all of the work. The Crown Prince would gladly fetch water, herbs…Anything that the grim-faced Healers needed. But Annolir, having spent most of his time locked away alone so that he could study, was a bit cold around others. He was not used to dealing with people, especially on an emotional level such as this, and wasn't sure how to comfort the family and friends that kept vigils at bedsides.

But Legolas…No matter the situation, the younger prince seemed to know exactly what to say and when. If he looked hard enough, Thranduil could just see him now, threading his way through the room, touching a shoulder here, a hand there, whispering words of comfort and hope into distraught ears.

A smile found its way to the king's lips. _Ah, Legolas. Even when you are not here, you are not far from my mind and heart, neth pen-nin. (1)_

"Ada?" (2)

He blinked as the sound of the soft voice reached his ears, and his vision went from the ghost of his younger son to the sparkling green eyes of his elder.

Thranduil's smile grew wider, assuring his son that there was nothing wrong with him. "Forgive me and my absent-mindedness, Annolir. I must admit that I find myself in a bit of a shock over all of this." He reached out and gently touched his son's cheek. "How are you faring?" His voice was soft, tinged with concern. Oh, Annolir was _physically _fine. But matters of the soul were often a far cry from that of the body.

Annolir let out a sigh. "I must admit that I am a bit weary, and heartsick as well. I have seen many friends here, and not all of them have fallen ill. But I will push my feelings aside to do what is best for my people."

Thranduil was aware of a little warning bell going off in the back of his head as his son's words registered in his brain, but he had too many other things to worry about at the moment.

His hand moved down to find a place on Annolir's shoulder, which he squeezed. "Then you will make a much better ruler than I could ever hope to be."

Annolir ducked his head as he flushed under his father's praise. "Thank you, Ada."

With a sigh, Thranduil turned to stare out of one of the many windows that lined the chamber with troubled eyes. "I can only pray that your brother is well," he said softly.

He was so busy trying to puzzle through his thoughts that he never saw Annolir's emerald eyes flash dangerously at the mention of Legolas, or his hands curl into fists. No, the king of Mirkwood had too many other things on his mind at the moment.

Spotting one of the Healers trying to carefully pick her way across the room, he quickly hurried to her side. "Amalyn," he said quietly to get her attention without starling her.

The Healer in question gave him a quick nod. She would have offered him a proper, respectful bow, but she was inhibited by the stack of towels she currently held in her arms. "My Lord."

"Is there somewhere we can talk?"

The young Elf bit her lip and looked around. There were Healers begging for the towels, but she couldn't just leave her king when he obviously needed her! "My Lord, I'm not sure if I---"

He held up a hand, and she immediately fell silent. But she was still biting her lip. "I understand, and I promise that I will not keep you from your duties long. I have questions to ask about this…sickness"---he was still having trouble even _saying _the word---"and a Healer seemed the most logical person to ask." He flashed her a grin, hoping to set her obviously taut nerves at ease.

Amalyn let out a sigh, but at least she put her stack of towels down. "As you wish, my Lord. But do try to make it quick."

Thranduil offered a nod of thanks, not knowing how he could even begin to express of how relieved she suddenly made him feel. He grasped her elbow gently and led her to a relatively quiet corner of the room. "Tell me, Amalyn. Is there anything you or the other Healers can do?"

The Healer let out a sigh that seemed as heavy as his heart and passed a weary hand over her eyes. "We've tried everything that we safely know how to. But they're not responding to our treatments. This is disease, a mortal sickness, and we are not used to dealing with mortals. Well, except for your son's Ranger friend, that is."

Thranduil nodded, as though this had been what he expected to hear from her. An idea had been forming in his head ever since his initial shock had worn off and, with the Healer's words, he knew that it was probably his best course of action. "Get the Healers to pack all of the things they think they will need for a five-day journey. Herbs, towels…anything and everything. Get the sick prepared to travel as well. We shall leave with tomorrow's first light."

Amalyn frowned, not understanding a bit of what had just been said. "My Lord?"

He had already turned away and was striding purposefully towards the door. He couldn't stop to explain. He had too much to do before morning. But, as he disappeared into the throng of people, he called back over his shoulder and she was able to catch his words clearly.

"We make for Rivendell."

* * *

The snow had finally stopped by the time the Sun began to splash color onto the otherwise white world. The clouds had parted, and the sky revealed itself to be a sparkling blue. They ate a meager breakfast---though no one complained---then were on their way once again.

Legolas wasn't near as cheerful as he had been the day before, and Aragorn didn't know whether to be happy or worried about this. He missed hearing his friend's infectious laughter and seeing his eyes sparkle with the same light that had been there when the human was a child, but he couldn't forget what Gandalf had confided in him the night before.

The fact that someone was casting spells on Legolas, and that Gandalf had no clue as to whom…Well, 'worried' was an understatement as to how Aragorn was currently feeling.

_Is someone trying to hurt Legolas? Is this another trick of Annolir's? If so, why didn't he just get Saruman to do it? Would he be afraid that Gandalf was recognize the magick signature of another Istari? But who besides an Istari would have that kind of power?_

_And what can we---what can _I---_do?_

Aragorn absolutely could not stand to feel helpless. He knew fear well and welcomed her with open arms. It could be an asset at times. Fear kept you from over- or underestimating your enemies. He had known what it was like to lose hope, to completely give up. All of these emotions he gladly took into stride.

But helplessness? Sitting back and watching something happen to your best friend and knowing that there was nothing---nothing at all---you could do to help him? It went against every moral Aragorn had ever been taught.

Then again, he had to remember that Gandalf had never said anything about it being _bad. _He just said that he could sense the crackle of magick around the male Elf, and that it was no wizard who was behind it.

_So maybe someone is trying to help him._

But Aragorn seriously doubted it.

He was brought from his thoughts quite abruptly by Frodo, who had chosen that moment to trip and begin a wild tumble down the mountain.

"Frodo!" Aragorn called as he ran forward to catch the poor hobbit before he could roll off into a ravine.

Frodo grunted as he crashed into the Ranger's boots, but was more than grateful for the soothing hands that pulled him back to his feet. As Aragorn brushed the snow from his shoulders, he instinctively reached for the chain around his neck.

And immediately began to panic.

_The Ring! _He started to blindly grope around, hoping that it had simply slipped off of his neck and fallen into his shirt.

Then his eyes caught a glint of gold lying a few feet away, where he had began his tumble, and he let out a sigh of relief. Before he could move to retrieve it, however, another hand reached down to lift the chain from the snow.

"Boromir," Aragorn called out in a cautious tone of voice.

A deadly silence had descended on the Company as they all turned to stare at the human warrior, who had brought the Ring closer to his face as though for inspection.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing," he said, seeming to speak more to himself than anyone else. "Such a little thing." Still staring at the golden object before his eyes, his other hand began to reach for the Ring.

"Boromir!" Aragorn called again, his voice sharper this time. The man gave a slight jump as though he had been startled, then turned to the Ranger. "Give the Ring to Frodo."

Boromir looked torn for a moment, then begin walking forward, holding the Ring out in front of him as though it were an offering of some sorts. "As you wish," he said, his tone slightly mocking. Frodo quickly grabbed the Ring from him, eying him suspiciously. "I care not." He exchanged a glance with Aragorn---Gimli could have sworn it was one of challenge----then, with a laugh, ruffled Frodo's hair before moving on.

Moving slowly so that no one would notice, Aragorn released his grip on the hilt of Anduril.

* * *

Elrond was beyond being exhausted. He hovered around Glorfindel's bed, a very fidgety Erestor not far behind. Normally, the Lord of Rivendell would have said something teasingly to his councilor, but he couldn't have thought of anything to say at the moment even if he had wanted to. He had matters more pressing than Erestor's hidden feelings for the blond Elf.

Like the fact that twenty-odd Elves had somehow fallen sick, and Elrond had no idea how to heal them.

With a profound sigh, he pulled the blanket up to Glorfindel's chin and turned to leave. "I've done all I can for him now," he said in a quiet voice, averting his gaze so that he wouldn't have to meet Erestor's anguished eyes. "I've got to go see to Lindir. He---"

"Lord Elrond!" came a cry as someone burst into the room. Elrond quietly groaned as he closed his eyes, knowing exactly why the messenger had come. "My Lord, there's been another…"

"Take me to him," he replied in a tired voice, wondering who it could have been this time. "After that, I want you to ready more rooms."

The messenger looked at him quizzically, hoping that he did not expect too many more to fall. "My Lord?"

"I have a feeling that Rivendell will not be the only Great Kingdom to fall to this…" He waved his hand in the air, too tired to think of a proper term. "Whatever this is" He managed a tired smile. "We've become the valley of dying stars, so it would seem."

The messenger nodded, and continued down the corridor, Elrond falling him closely. _Elves aren't supposed to get sick. Yet I've already had twenty fallen, apparently with more to go. And, if I'm right, we're not the only ones suffering such losses._

_What on Arda is going on?_

* * *

(1)neth pen-nin-----------------my young one

(2)Ada---------------------------Father


	6. For Thine Is

Hello again! Hope everyone had an awesome 4th, weather you live in America or not. Hey, it was still the 4th of July, no matter where you live. And thanks for the reviews, guys! Sorry this thing seems like it's going nowhere fast. I'm working on that...  
  
Warnings: As usual, this story will have slash and an OC romance by the time it's over.   
  
Disclaimer: As always, I own no part of the LOTR universe. Well, except for some action figures, board games, movies, tons of posters, etc.... Also, a lot of this comes strait from the book. So if there's a part you don't understand, blame Tolkien. Not me.  
  
World's End  
  
Chapter 5: For Thine Is  
  
Legolas hoped that the others hadn't noticed his many near-stumbles. He didn't want to cause them to worry, to become a burden yet again. He knew this wasn't normal, this feeling that he had. But he also knew that there was nothing he and the others could do about it.   
  
The bouts of dizziness had started in earnest the day before, but he had done his best to ignore them. Besides, with the dizziness came that lighthearted feeling that he so craved. The ability to laugh again, to find those moments of happiness that had been sorely lacking on this Quest... Like the snowball fight and Estel chasing him as he once did when he was a child. He'd managed to forget about their troubles, if only for a little while. And, for that, he would endure anything.  
  
But, ever since that morning, something else had been accompanying the dizziness: a faint sense of nausea. His stomach would twist up into painful knots and he would become more lightheaded than was usual, causing him to nearly stumble and fall on numerous occasions. He always managed to catch himself---sometimes just barely---but had to wonder if that would always be the case. And if he did fall, and the others discovered that all was not well with the Elf prince? What then?  
  
_I will not let that happen_, he told himself firmly. I_ have already been too much of a source of worry for them. I won't do it again.  
_  
He sincerely hoped that he would be able to keep that promise.  
  
Next to him, Ylana continued to walk gracefully over the snow, her eyes constantly darting around as she kept a lookout for anything that could be dangerous. But they always returned to their place on Boromir's back.  
  
It had been so ever since the brief encounter between the human and Frodo. Legolas knew that it had to be a hurt to his companion. Ylana, unlike himself, truly liked Boromir. The two had managed to become close friends during the time that Ylana had been with them. Oh, she knew of what had conspired at the Council. Legolas had told her of how he had wanted to take the Ring and use it for his own purposes. She had thanked her male counterpart for the warning, but refused to turn down the opportunity to make a new friend.  
  
The two, he had come to discover, had quite a bit in common. They would often speak of the love they had for their brothers, and of the difficulty of protecting their homes against evil forces. When Boromir got angry, it was always Ylana who would step in and calm him down. He was always asking if she needed aid, and she would always laughingly refuse.  
  
Legolas knew that he should be jealous of the relationship his fellow Elf shared with the human he could barely tolerate, but found he could not. He and Ylana were simply friends. No more, no less. If she preferred the Company of Boromir, then that was fine by him.  
  
Aragorn, however, was a completely different matter.  
  
Legolas was mortified to discover that when anyone so much as placed a hand on the Ranger's shoulder, or spoke to him intimately, jealousy would rear up inside of him. He often pressed a hand to his stomach in an effort to be rid of it, telling himself that it was simply an effect of this strange dizziness that had been plaguing him. That he had absolutely no reason to be jealous.  
  
A hand landed on his arm then, forcing him to stop. He looked up in surprise to see that it was Ylana standing there. Not saying a word, she nodded forward. Looking over his shoulder, the male Elf saw a series of jagged boulders, half buried by the snow, that he had been about to run into.  
  
A fierce blush spread across his cheeks. "Please forgive my lack of attention," he apologized. "My mind has taken to wandering when I can sense no evil nearby, and it often fails to warn my body of anything else."  
  
Ylana laughed at his flustered appearance. "Don't worry. You do not have to be a hawk all the time. And I think we're all allowed to let our minds wander occasionally. Don't apologize."  
  
He gave her a sheepish smile, then made to move around the rocks. Still chuckling quietly, Ylana followed. "Just be glad that the Dwarf did not see that."  
  
Legolas groaned at the thought. "I would never hear the end of it. 'Clutzy Elf,'" he said in an imitation of Gimli's voice. "'Can't even walk strait!'"  
  
Ylana covered her mouth to hide a very un-Elvish giggle. A quiet chuckle came from behind them, showing that Aragorn had heard them as well.  
  
This made Legolas extremely happy. To hear his friends laughing once again was the biggest reward he could have earned.  
  
The dizziness swept over him once more, making him feel lightheaded enough to fly. The world spun a bit more righting itself again. He gave Ylana a bright smile before skipping ahead, once again hoping that the others wouldn't notice that he hadn't been himself lately.  
  
But he couldn't feel Aragorn's eyes on him, nor could he see the worried frown on the Ranger's face.  
  
Something wasn't right....  
  
--------------------  
  
The rest of the day proved to be uneventful. It got colder---if that was possible---and Aragorn was glad that Boromir would be taking the watch that night. Legolas may have been small, but he gave off quite a bit of body heat, for which Aragorn was thankful. Besides, it would be easier for him to keep an eye on the Elf this way.  
  
The group ate their dinner of cold cuts, huddled as close together as possible. The wind howled around them mercilessly. They were able to find some shelter from it in the form of a small ledge. No snow lay under it, and the force of the wind was cut down considerably.  
  
As the night approached, the wind died down, and some of the members of the Company ventured out from under the ledge in search for places to sleep. Boromir left to take watch, while Gandalf came to stand beside Aragorn, who was staring out over the darkened landscape.  
  
"Winter deepens behind us," the wizard said quietly. "The tops of the mountains are whiter than they were, snow is lying far down their shoulders. We may well be seen by watchers on the path of Redhorn Gate, and waylaid by some evil; but the weather may prove a more deadly enemy than any. What do you think of your course now, Aragorn?"  
  
Frodo, wrapped tightly in his own cloak and huddled with Sam under Ylana's, overheard the exchange. He had a feeling that Gandalf and Aragorn were continuing some debate that had begun long before. Tuning out the chatter of the other three hobbits beside him, he listened anxiously.  
  
"I think no good of our course from beginning to end, as you know well, Gandalf," answered Aragorn, his eyes fixed on the blond Elf who was sitting cross-legged on the ground, absently writing in the snow with his finger. _He seems a bit put off_... "And perils known and unknown will grow as we go on. But we must go on, and it is no good our delaying the passage of the mountains. Further south there are no passages. You know this. At least not until one comes to the Gap of Rohan. And we've already turned from that path since what happened with Saruman. Who knows which side now the marshals of the Horse-lords serve?"   
  
'Who knows indeed!" said Gandalf. "But there is another way, and not by the pass of Caradhras; the dark and secret way we have spoken of."  
  
Ylana had come to stand behind Legolas and, even in the dark, Aragorn could see a slight frown on her face. "But let us not speak of it again!" the Ranger said firmly, turning back to the wizard. "Not yet. Say nothing to the others, I beg, not until it is plain there is no other way."  
  
"We must decide before we go further," answered Gandalf.  
  
"Then let us weigh the matter in our minds, while the others rest and sleep."  
  
The wizard nodded. "Very well, then. Good night, Aragorn." With that, he turned and left.  
  
The Ranger stood there for a long moment, eyes closed. _How did it come to this..._  
  
He sighed and raked a hand through his hair before going over and plopping on the ground next to Legolas.  
  
The Elf turned and offered a grin, and Aragorn was struck by how utterly childlike his companion seemed. "Hello, Estel. Would you like to draw with me?"  
  
The Ranger managed a small smile. "Not right now, Legolas. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, let's just get some sleep."  
  
Legolas nodded and lay back, curled up on his side, away from the hobbits. Aragorn lay beside him, wrapping himself in his cloak and pressing his back to the Elf's for warmth before closing his eyes.  
  
But it was a long time before he fell asleep.  
  
-----------  
  
It was still snowing when they next awoke. The ground cover was now past the hobbits' ankles, and even Gimli would soon have to admit he was having difficulty walking.  
  
While the group ate their breakfast, Gandalf and Aragorn stepped to the side and stood together, looking up at Caradhras. The top was lost in a grey cloud that looked thick with snow. Frodo watched them discreetly, wondering which way the debate would go. When they returned to the Company, it was Gandalf who spoke, and he knew that it had been decided they would face the worsening weather and high pass. He was relieved. He had no idea what this dark and secret way was, but he had a feeling that it was the same Road Aragorn had spoken to him of before. Whatever it was, the very mention of it had seemed to fill Aragorn with dismay, and Frodo was glad it had been abandoned.  
  
Legolas sat off to the side, alone. He could not eat. He had managed to nibble a bit on the food he had been given, but could do no more than that. He felt sick. He pressed a hand to his stomach and hoped that none of the others noticed. Especially Aragorn, who had been watching him like a hawk lately.  
  
The Company set out again with good speed at first; but soon their way became steep and difficult. The twisting and climbing road had in many places almost disappeared, and was blocked with many fallen stones. The day grew dark under thick clouds. A bitter wind swirled among the rocks. By noon they had climbed to the knees of the great mountains. Their narrow path now wound under a sheer wall of cliffs to the left. On the right was a gulf of darkness where the land fell suddenly into a deep ravine.  
  
Laboriously they climbed a sharp slope and halted for a moment at the top. The snow began falling harder.  
  
They went on. But before long the snow was falling fast, faster than it had since they began the climb. It swirled into Frodo's eyes, and the dark bent shapes of Gandalf and Aragorn only a pace or two ahead could hardly be seen.  
  
"I don't like this at all," panted Sam just behind. "Snow's all right on a fine morning, or when it's just barely falling. But I'd rather be in bed if it's going to come a blizzard. I wish this lot would go off to Hobbiton! Folk might welcome it there."  
  
Gandalf halted. Snow was thick on his hood and shoulders; it was already ankle deep about his boots.  
  
"This is what I feared," he said. "What do you say now, Aragorn?"  
  
"That I feared it too," Aragorn answered, "but less than other things. We both knew the risk of snow, though it seldom falls heavily so far to south, save high up in the mountains. But we are not so high yet; we are still far down, where the paths are usually open all winter."  
  
"I wonder if this is a contrivance of the Enemy," said Boromir. "They say in my land that he can govern the storms in the Mountains of Shadow that stand upon the boarders of Mordor. He has strange powers and many allies."  
  
"His arm has grown long indeed," said Gimli, "if he can draw snow from the North to trouble us here three thousand leagues away."  
  
"His arm has grown long," said Gandalf.  
  
Aragorn never heard a word that was said. He was too busy scanning the area for a blond head. A blond head that seemed to be missing.  
  
"Ylana?" he called, spotting the dark-haired Elf leaning against a tree. "Where's Legolas?"  
  
"Oh, he went on ahead. To check out the path, see what it was like."  
  
Aragorn nodded, feeling relieved. For a moment, he'd been worried that his friend had fallen into the ravine. He turned back to the others, but kept one eye open for his wayward friend. He only hoped that everything was all right.  
  
---------------  
  
Legolas Greenleaf was dying.  
  
At least, he felt as though he were dying. He had been on his hands and knees for the better part of fifteen minutes, throwing up everything he'd ever eaten.  
  
Finally, when it seemed as though his stomach was empty, the Elf fell to his side, shaking all over. He needed to get to a river or stream to wash his face and hands, but he didn't even have enough strength to stand. So he scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it across his face. A shudder of disgust passed through him.  
  
_I need to get back to the others_, he thought as he lay on the ground, panting and shivering. _If not, they'll come looking for me. And I can't let them see me like this. Especially Aragorn.  
_  
Legolas managed to get a shaking arm underneath him and push up. Five minutes later, he had managed to rise to a sitting position. And after another seven minutes, he had managed to stand. He leaned against a rock, eyes closed as he took deep, calming breaths.  
  
Finally, when his body had nearly stopped trembling, he opened his eyes and pushed off from the rock. It took him a moment to get his balance, to make the world stop spinning. Then he began to slowly make his way back to the camp, one thought running through his mind.  
  
_Something is definitely not right...  
_  
-------------  
  
While they were halted, the wind died down, and the snow slackened until it almost ceased. They tramped on again. But they had not gone more than a furlong when the storm returned with fresh fury. The wind whistled and the snow became a blinding fury. Soon even Boromir found it hard to keep going. The hobbits, bent nearly double, toiled behind the taller folk, but it was plain that they could not go much further, if the snow continued. Frodo's feet felt like lead. Pippin was dragging behind. Even Gimli, stout as any Dwarf could be, was grumbling as he trudged along.  
  
The Company halted suddenly, as if they had come to an unspoken agreement. They heard eerie noises in the darkness round them. It may have only been a trick of the wind in the cracks and gullies of the rocky wall, but the sounds were those of shrill cries, and wild howls of laughter. Stones began to fall from the mountain-side, whistling over their heads, or crashing on the path beside them. Every now and again they heard a dull rumble, as a great boulder rolled down from hidden heights above.  
  
"Duck!" Ylana called, grabbing Legolas and pulling him down beside her as a scattering of rocks---big and small---flew over them.  
  
"We can go no further," Boromir said as the Elves picked themselves up. "You can call it the wind if you want; there are fell voices on the air. Those stones are aimed at us."  
  
"I do call it the wind," Aragorn answered a bit testily. "But that doesn't mean you are wrong. There are many evil and unfriendly things in the world that have little love for those that go on two legs, and yet are not in league with Sauron, but have purposes of their own. Some have been in this world longer than he."  
  
"Caradhras was called Cruel, and had an ill name," said Gimli. "This was long ago, when even rumor of Sauron had not yet reached this land."  
  
"It matters little who is the enemy, if we cannot beat off his attack," said Gandalf in a grumpy voice.  
  
"But what can we do?" cried Pippin miserably. He was leaning against Merry and Frodo, wrapped in Legolas's cloak, shivering uncontrollably.  
  
"We can either stop where we are, or go back," the wizard interjected. "It is no good going on. Only a little higher, if my memory serves me right, this path leaves the cliff and runs into a wide shallow through the bottom of a long hard slope. We should have no shelter from the snow, or stones---or anything else for that matter."  
  
"And it is no good going back while the storm holds," came Aragorn. "We have passed no place on the way up that offered more shelter than this cliff-wall we are under now."  
  
"Shelter," muttered Sam. "If this is shelter, then one wall and no roof make a house."  
  
Legolas couldn't help but chuckle. "How right you are, Sam. How right you are."  
  
-----------------  
  
The Company now gathered together as close to the cliff as they could. It faced southwards, and near the bottom it leaned out a little, so that they hoped it would give them some protection from the northerly wind and from the falling stones. But eddying blasts swirled around them from every side, and the snow flowed down in even denser clouds.  
  
They huddled as close together as they could with their backs to the wall. Bill the Pony stood patiently but dejectedly in front of the hobbits, and screened them a little; but before long the drifting snow was above his hocks, and it continued to mount. If it wasn't for their larger companions, the hobbits would soon have been entirely buried.  
  
Legolas was leaning against a rock, one foot resting behind him, arms crossed, eyes closed. He hoped that the others would simply think that he was enjoying the snow. But he was tired. Utterly and thoroughly exhausted. He would've been worried if he wasn't so tired that he couldn't think strait. It wasn't natural for Elves to feel this way.  
  
He wasn't the only one, though. A great sleepiness came over Frodo; he felt himself sinking fast into a warm and hazy dream. He thought a fire was heating his toes, and out of the shadows on the other side of the hearth he heard Bilbo's voice speaking. _I don't think much of your diary_, he said. _Snowstorms on January the twelfth: there was no need to come back and report that!  
  
But I wanted to rest and sleep, Bilbo,_ Frodo answered with an effort, when he felt himself shaken, and he came back painfully to wakefulness. Boromir had lifted him off the ground out of a nest of snow. Despite his lack of trust for the Man, Frodo was very grateful.  
  
"This will be the death of the halflings, Gandalf," said Boromir, having to shout in order to be heard over the wind. "It is useless to sit here until the snow goes over our heads. We must do something to save ourselves."  
  
"Give them this," said Gandalf, searching in his pack and drawing out a leathern flask. "Just a mouthful each---for all of us. It is very precious. It is _miruvor_, the cordial of Imladris. Elrond gifted it to me at our parting. Pass it round!"  
  
As soon as Frodo had swallowed a little of the warm and fragrant liquor he felt a new strength of heart, and the heaviness left his limbs. The others also revived and found fresh hope and vigour. Legolas was no longer exhausted. But the snow did not relent. It whirled about them thicker than ever, and the wind blew louder.  
  
'What do you say to a fire?" asked Boromir suddenly. "The choice seems now between fire and death, Gandalf. Doubtless we shall be hidden from all unfriendly eyes when the snow covers us, but that will be no good."  
  
"You may make a fire, if you can," answered Gandalf. "If there are any watchers that can endure this storm, then I have no doubt they can see us, fire or no."  
  
But though they had brought wood and kindling by the advice of Boromir, it passed the skill of Elf or even Dwarf to strike a flame that would hold amid the swirling wind or catch in the wet fuel. This caused Ylana to mutter curses in frustration. At last reluctantly Gandalf himself took a hand. Picking up a bit of wood, he held it aloft for a moment, and with a word of command, _naur an edraith ammen_!, he thrust the end of his staff into the midst of it. At once a great spout of green and blue flame sprang out, and the wood flared and spluttered.  
  
"If there are any to see, then I am at least revealed to them," he said. "I have written _Gandalf is_ _here_ in signs that all can read from Rivendell to the Mouth of the Anduin."  
  
But the Company cared no longer for watchers or unfriendly eyes. Their hearts were rejoiced to see the light of the fire. The wood burned merrily; and though all round it the snow hissed, and pools of slush crept under their feet, they warmed their hands gladly at the blaze. There they stood, stooping in a circle round the little dancing and blowing flames. A red light was on their tired and anxious faces; behind them the night was like a black wall.  
  
But the wood was burning fast, and the snow still fell. 


	7. Death's Other Kingdom

Hello to all of you out there in fan fic land! Hope life is treating you all well. Thanks to all of you who have read this, whether or not you've left a review or not. Hope you continue to read and enjoy!

Warnings: This will contain some slash, and an OC pairing. If you don't like it, don't read it, send me a nasty email and insult both of our intelligences.

Disclaimer: They all belong to Tolkien. Not me. I don't have enough brain power to come up with this stuff. Also, a lot of this is taken directly from the book. All of the titles come from the brilliant mind of T.S. Elliot.

World's End

Chapter 6: Death's Other Kingdom

The fire burned low, and the last bit of wood was thrown on.

"The night is getting cold," said Aragorn, wrapping his cloak tightly around him. "The dawn is not far off."

"If any dawn can pierce these clouds," said Gimli.

Boromir stepped out of the circle and stared up into the blackness of the night, rubbing his arms briskly. "The snow is less," he said, "and the wind is quieter."

Frodo gazed wearily at the flakes still falling out of the dark to be revealed white for a moment in the light of the dying fire, but for a long time he could see no sign of their slacking. Then suddenly, as sleep was beginning to creep over him again, he was aware that the wind had indeed fallen, and the flakes were becoming larger and fewer. Very slowly, a dim light began to grow. At last the snow stopped all together.

As the light grew stronger it showed a silent shrouded world. Below their refuge were white humps and domes and shapeless deeps beneath which the path that they had trodden was altogether lost, but the heights above were hidden in great clouds still heavy with the threat of snow.

Gimli looked up and shook his head. "Caradhras has not forgiven us," he said "He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better."

To this all agreed---Aragorn very reluctantly---but their retreat was now difficult. It might well prove impossible. Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the hobbits; in some places it had been scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.

"If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you," said Legolas. He felt much better after that drink, and his light-hearted manner had returned. This time without the nausea.

"If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us," answered Gandalf in a grumpy voice, causing Ylana to giggle and Aragorn to let out a chuckle. "But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow."

"Well," said Boromir, "when heads are at a loss, bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder of rock down yonder. If we reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess."

"The let us force a path tither, you and I!" said Aragorn, winking at Legolas, who grinned widely.

Aragorn was the tallest of the Company, but Boromir, little less in height, was broader and heavier in build. He led the way, and Aragorn followed him. Slowly they moved off, and were soon toiling heavily. In places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.

Ylana lay back on the ground, arms crossed behind her head, staring up into the sky. Legolas watched them for awhile with a smile upon his lips, and then turned to the others. "The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf---or over snow---an Elf."

With that he sprang forth nimbly, and then Frodo noticed as if for the first time, though hr had long known it, that the Elf had no boots, but wore only light shoes, as he always did, and his feet made little imprint in the snow.

"Farewell!" he said to Gandalf. "I go to find the Sun!" Then swift as a runner over firm sand he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a wave of his hand he passed them, and sped into the distance, and vanished round the rocky turn.

Ylana, who had rose to a sitting position, stared after him with an open mouth. She had heard that Legolas was a playful sprite, but she had only seen the serious side of her friend. She didn't know whether to be excited or worried by this turn of events, so she turned to the one who might be able to tell her.

"Gandalf?"

The wizard sighed as he, too, stared after the retreating Elf. "I don't know, Ylana," he said softly. "I just don't know."

* * *

The others waited huddled together, watching until Boromir and Aragorn dwindled into black specks in the whiteness. At length, they too passed from sight. The time dragged on. The clouds lowered, and now a few flakes of snow came curling down.

An hour, maybe, went by, and then at last they saw Legolas coming back. Ylana and Sam looked up from their game of stones to see that, at the same time, Boromir and Aragorn repapered round the bend far behind the Elf and came laboring up the slope.

'Well," cried Legolas as he ran up, not even winded. "I have not brought the Sun. She is walking in the blue fields of the South, and a little wreath of snow on this Redhorn hillock troubles her not at all. But I have brought back a gleam of good hope for those who are doomed to go on feet. There is the greatest wind-drift of all just beyond the turn, and there our Strong Men were almost buried. They despaired, until I returned and told them that the drift was a little wider than a wall. And on the other side the snow suddenly grows less, while further down it is no more than a white coverlet to cool a hobbit's toes."

"Ah, it is as I said," growled Gimli, leaning on his ax. "It was no ordinary storm. It is the ill will of Caradhras. He does not love Elves and Dwarves, and that drift was laid to cut off our escape."

"But happily your Caradhras has forgotten that you have Men with you," said Boromir, who came up at that moment, with a wink. "And doughty Men too, if I may say it; though lesser men with spades might have served you better. Still, we have thrust a lane through the drift; and for that all here may be grateful who cannot run as light as Elves." Here he smiled at Ylana to show that he meant that part as a joke.

"But how are we to get down there, even if you have cut through the drift?" said Pippin, voicing the thought of all the hobbits.

"Have hope!" said Boromir. "I am weary, but I still have some strength left, and I'm sure Aragorn does, too. We will bear the little folk. The others no doubt will make swift to tread the path behind us. Come, Master Peregrin! I will begin with you!"

He lifted up the hobbit. "Cling to my back! I shall need my arms," he said and strode forward. Aragorn with Merry came behind. Pippin couldn't help but marvel at his strength, seeing the passage that he had already forced with no other tool than his great limbs. Even now, burdened as he was, he was widening the track for those who followed, thrusting the snow aside as he went.

They came at length to the great drift. It was flung across the mountain-path like a sheer and sudden wall, and its crest, sharp as if shaped with knives, reared up more than twice the height of Boromir; but through the middle a passage had been beaten, rising and falling like a bridge. On the far side, Merry and Pippin were set down, and there they waited with Legolas and Ylana for the rest of the Company to arrive.

After a while, Boromir returned carrying Sam. Behind in the narrow but well-trodden track came Gandalf, leading Bill with Gimli perched among the baggage. Last came Aragorn carrying Frodo. They passed through the lane, but hardly had Frodo touched the ground when, with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering snow. The spray of it half blinded the Company as they crouched against the cliff, and when the air cleared again they saw that the path was blocked behind them.

"Enough, enough!" cried Gimli. "We are departing as quickly as we may." And indeed with that last stroke the malice of the mountain seemed to be expended as if Caradhras was satisfied that the invaders had been beaten off and would not dare to return. The threat of snow lifted, the clouds began to break and the light grew broader.

As Legolas had so happily reported, they found that the snow became steadily more shallow as they went down, so that even the hobbits could trudge along. Soon they all stood once more on the flat shelf at the head of the steep slope where the snow had begun in earnest the night before.

The morning was now far advanced. From the high place they looked back westwards over the lower lands. Far away in the tumble of country that lay at the foot of the mountain was the dell from which they had started to climb the pass. The Elves' hair was blowing around their faces, but it was a soft breeze that brought no herald of snow.

Frodo's legs ached. He was chilled to the bone and hungry; and his head was dizzy as he thought of the long and painful march downhill. Black specks swam before his eyes. He rubbed them, but the black specks remained. In the distance below him, but still high above the lower foothills, dark dots were circling in the air.

"The birds," Aragorn said grimly, pointing down.

"That cannot be helped now," said Gandalf. "Whether they are good or evil, or have nothing to do with us at all, we must go down at once. Not even on the knees of Caradhras will we wait for another night-fall!"

A cold wind flowed down behind them, as they turned their backs on the Redhorn Gate, and stumbled wearily down the slope.

Caradhras had defeated them.

* * *

It was evening, and the grey light was again waning fast when they halted for the night. They were very weary. The mountains were veiled in deepening dusk, and the wind was cold. Gandalf spared them one more mouthful each of the _miruvor_ of Rivendell. When they had eaten some food he called a council.

While he did that, Legolas begged himself to be excused. He said he wanted to patrol for he had an uneasy feeling about the place, and Gandalf granted him leave. So off the Elf went, looking as normal and healthy as always.

Five minutes later, when he was sure he was out of earshot of the others, he dove behind a bush and began to retch as his stomach heaved, rejecting everything he had eaten since the last time this had happened.

But, unlike last time, he continued to throw up even after his stomach was empty. For the Elf, who had been through numerous battles and been injured too many times to count, this was the most painful thing he'd every experienced. He could understand now why mortals had such short lives!

He was finally finished and leaned back against a rock, staring up into the evening sky. _Why is this happening to me? _he silently demanded of the stars. _Why am I suddenly experiencing this human sickness? Why just me? Why not Ylana, too?_

But the dim stars would not answer, so Legolas was left alone to his troubling thoughts.

* * *

"We cannot, of course, go on again tonight," Gandalf said. "The attack on the Redhorn Gate has tired us out, and we must rest here for awhile."

"And then where are we to go?" asked Frodo.

"We still have our journey and our errand before us," the wizard answered. 'We have no choice but to go on, or return to Rivendell."

Pippin's face brightened visibly at the mere mention of return to Rivendell; Merry and Sam looked up hopefully. But Aragorn and Boromir made no sign. Frodo looked troubled. Ylana and Legolas were nowhere in sight.

"I wish I was back there," Frodo said wistfully. "But how can I return without shame---unless there is indeed no other way, and we are already defeated?"

"You are right, Frodo," said Gandalf. "To go back is to admit defeat, and face worse defeat to come. If we go back now, then the Ring must remain there: we shall not be able to set out again. Then sooner or later Rivendell will be besieged, and after a brief and bitter time it will be destroyed. The Ringwraiths are deadly enemies, but they are only shadows yet of the power and terror they would possess if the Ruling Ring was on their master's hand again."

"Then we must go on, if there is a way," Frodo said with a sigh. Sam sank back into gloom.

"There is a way that we may attempt," said Gandalf with a guarded look at Aragorn, whose face was grim. "I thought from the beginning when first I considered this journey that we should try it. But it is not a pleasant way, and I have not spoken of it to the Company before. Aragorn was against it, until the pass over the mountain had at least been tried."

"If it is a worse road than the Redhorn Gate, then it must be evil indeed," said Merry. "But you had better tell us about it, and let us know the worse at once."

"The road that I speak of leads to the Mines of Moria," said Gandalf. Only Gimli lifted up his head; a smoldering fire was in his eyes. On all the others a dread fell at the mention of that name. Even to the hobbits it was a legend of vague fear.

"The road may lead to Moria, but how can we hope that it will lead through Moria?" said Aragorn darkly.

Frodo couldn't hold back a shudder that had nothing to do with the cold. _So this is Aragorn's __Dark Road__…_

"It is a name of ill omen," said Boromir. "Nor do I see the need to go there. If we cannot cross the mountains, let us journey southwards, until we come to the Gap of Rohan, where men are friendly to my people, taking the road that I followed on my way tither. Or we might pass by and cross the Isen into Langstrand and Lebennin, and so come to Gondor from the regions nigh to the sea."

"Things have changed since you came north, Boromir," answered Gandalf. "You know well of Saruman and his treachery! With him I may have business of my own ere this is all over. But the Ring will not come near Isengard, if that can by any means be prevented. The Gap of Rohan is closed to us while we go with the Bearer.

"As for the longer road: we cannot afford the time. We might spend a year in such a journey, and we should pass through many lands that are empty and harborless. Yet they would not be safe. The watchful eyes of both Saruman and of the Enemy are on them. When you came north, Boromir, you were in the Enemy's eyes only one stray wanderer from the South and a matter of small concern to him: his mind was busy with pursuit of the Ring. But you return now as a member of the Ring's Company, and you are in peril as long as you remain with us. The danger will increase with every league that we go south under the naked sky.

"Since our open attempt on the mountain pass our plight has become more desperate, I fear. I see now little hope, if we do not soon vanish from sight for awhile, and cover our trail. Therefore I advise that we should go neither over the mountains, nor round them. That is a Road at any rate that the Enemy will least expect us to take."

'We do not know what he expects," said Boromir. "He may watch all roads, likely and unlikely. In that case to enter Moria would be to walk into a trap, hardly better than knocking at the gate of the Dark Tower itself. The name of Moria is black."

"You speak of what you do not know, when you liken Moria to the stronghold of Sauron," answered Gandalf. "I alone of you have ever been in the dungeons of the Dark Lord, and only in his older and lesser dwelling in Dol Gulder. Those who pass the gates of Barad-Dur do not return. But I would not lead you into Moria if there were no hope of coming out again. If there are Orcs there, it may prove ill for us, that is true. But most of the Orcs of the Misty Mountains were scattered or destroyed in the Battle of the Five Armies. The Eagles report that Orcs are gathering again from afar; but there is a hope that Moria is still free.

"There is even a chance that Dwarves are there, and that in some deep hall of his fathers, Balin son of Fundin may be found. However it may prove, one must tread the path that need chooses!"

Frodo heard a slight crunch of rocks and, turning, saw that the two Elves had rejoined them. He couldn't be sure, but he thought Legolas looked a little pale.

"I will tread the path with you, Gandalf!" said Gimli. "I will go and look on the halls of Durin, whatever may wait there---if you can find the doors that are shut."

"Good, Gimli!" said Gandalf. "You encourage me. We will seek the hidden doors together. And we will come through. In the ruins of the Dwarves, a Dwarf's head will be less easy to bewilder than Elves or Men or Hobbits. Yet it will not be the first time I have been to Moria. I sought there long for Thrain son of Thror after he was lost. I passed through, and I came out again alive!"

"I too once passed the Dimrill Gate," said Aragorn quietly, "but though I also came out again, the memory is very evil. I do not wish to entire Moria a second time."

"I and I don't wish to entire it even once," said Pippin.

"Nor me," muttered Sam.

"Of course!" said Gandalf. 'Who would? But the question is: who will follow me, if I lead you there?"

"I will," said Gimli eagerly.

"I will," said Aragorn heavily. "You followed my lead almost to disaster in the snow, and have said no word of blame. I will follow your lead now---if this last warning does not move you. It is not of the Ring, nor of us other that I am thinking now, but of you, Gandalf. And I say to you: if you pass the doors of Moria, beware!"

"I will _not _go," said Boromir, "not unless the vote of the whole Company is against me. What do Legolas, Ylana and the little folk say? The Ring-bearer's voice surely should be heard!"

"I do not wish to go to Moria," said Legolas, then turned to Ylana.

The female Elf shrugged. "I do not wish to travel there," she said softly. "Elves do not like to go underground. But I will follow Aragorn wherever he goes."

The hobbits said nothing. Sam looked at Frodo. At last Frodo spoke. "I do not wish to go," he said, "but neither do I wish to refuse the advice of Gandalf. I beg that there should be no vote, until we have slept on it. Gandalf will get votes easier in the light of the morning than in this cold gloom. How the wind howls!"

At these words all fell into silent thought. They heard the wind hissing among the rocks and trees, and there was a howling and wailing round them in the empty spaces of the night.

* * *

Suddenly Aragorn leapt to his feet. "How the wind howls!" he cried.

Legolas, coming to stand by his side, nodded. "Then you noticed it as well."

"It is howling with wolf-voices. The Wargs are here!"


	8. A Fading Star

Hi , everyone! Hope you are all doing well. I'm moving back in tomorrow (yay!) so I know I'm doing wonderfully. Anywho, I want to say thanks for all the reviews. You guys are just so awesome!

Warnings: Will contain slash and an OC romance. Yeah, I usually don't read those, so I don't know why I'm writing one. Go figure….

Disclaimer: It all came from the mind of Tolkien. Not mine. My mind is a very scary place. Also, the titles belong to T.S. Elliot and his wonderful poem 'The Hollow Men'. And quite a bit of this is coming strait from the books. So if it gets kinda hard to understand…don't blame me!

World's End

Chapter 7: A Fading Star

"Need we wait until morning then?" said Gandalf. "It is as I said. The hunt is up! Even if we live to see the dawn, who now will wish to journey south by night with the wild wolves on his tail?"

"How far is Moria?" asked Boromir.

"There is a door south-west of Caradhras, some fifteen miles as the crow flies, and maybe twenty as the wolf runs," answered Gandalf grimly.

"Then let us start as soon as it is light tomorrow, if we can," said Boromir. "The wolf that one hears is worse than the Orc that one fears."

"True!" said Aragorn, loosening his sword in its sheath. "But where the Warg howls, there also the Orc prowls."

"I wish I had taken Elrond's advice," muttered Pippin to Sam. "I am no good after all. There is not enough of the breed of Bandobras the Bullroar in me: these howls freeze my blood. I don't ever remember feeling so wretched. And we've fought the Wargs before!"

"My heart's right down in my toes, Mr. Pippin," said Sam. "But we didn't get eaten last time, and we aren't eaten yet. There are some stout folk here with us. Whatever may be in store for old Gandalf, I'll wager it isn't a wolf's belly."

* * *

For their defense in the night the Company climbed to the top of the small hill under which they had been sheltering. It was crowned with a knot of old and twisted trees, about which lay a circle of boulder-stones. In the midst of this they lit a fire, for there was no hope that darkness and silence would keep their trail from discovery by the hunting packs.

Round the fire they sat, and those that were not on guard---basically the hobbits---dozed uneasily. Poor Bill the Pony trembled and sweated where he stood. The howling of the wolves was now all round them, sometimes nearer and sometimes further off. In the dead of night many shinning eyes were seen peering over the brow of the hill. Some advanced almost to the ring of stones. At a gap in the circle a great dark wolf-shape could be seen halted, gazing at them. A shuddering howl broke from him, as if he were a captain summoning his pack to the assault.

Gandalf stood up and strode forward, holding his staff aloft. "Listen, Hound of Sauron!" he cried. "Gandalf is here. Fly, if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring."

The wolf snarled and sprang towards them with a great leap. At that moment there was a sharp twang. Moving purely on reflex, Legolas had loosed his bow. There was a hideous yell, and the leaping shape thudded to the ground; the elvish arrow had pierced its throat. The watching eyes were suddenly extinguished. Gandalf and Aragorn strode forward, but the hill was deserted; the hunting packs had fled. All about them the darkness grew silent, and no cry cam on the sighing wind.

Ylana reached out to place a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "You saved us by your quick thinking my friend! By the time you sent that shot off, I didn't even have my bow unshouldered."

Legolas gave a small smile, but that was all he could manage. He felt so dizzy, and his head was killing him. He didn't even remember pulling out the arrow, much less firing it.

Things were getting worse, and he knew it. He could only wonder at how much time he had left.

* * *

The night was old, and westward the waning moon was setting, gleaming fitfully, through the breaking clouds. Suddenly Frodo started from sleep. Without warning a storm of howls broke out fierce and wild all about the camp. A great host of Wargs had gathered silently and was now attacking them from every side at once.

"Fling fuel on the fire!" cried Gandalf to the hobbits. "Draw your blades, and stand back to back!"

In the leaping light, as the fresh wood blazed up, Frodo saw many grey shapes spring over the ring of stones. More and more followed. Through the throat of one huge leader Aragorn passed his sword with a thrust; with a great sweep Boromir hewed the head off another. Beside them Gimli stood with his stout legs apart, wielding his dwarf ax. The bows of the Elves were singing.

In the wavering firelight Gandalf seemed suddenly to grow: he rose up, a great menacing shape like the monument of some ancient king of stone upon a hill. Stooping like a cloud, he lifted a burning branch and strode to meet the wolves. They gave back before him. High in the air he tossed the blazing brand. It flared with a sudden radiance like lightning; and his voice rolled like thunder.

"Naur an edraith amen! Naur dan I ngaurhoth!" he cried.

There was a roar and a crackle, and the tree above him burst into a bloom of blinding flame. The fire leapt from tree-top to tree-top. The whole hill was crowned with dazzling light. The swords and knives of the defenders shone and flickered. The last arrow of Legolas kindled in the air as it flew, and plunged burning into the heart of the great wolf chieftain. All the others fled.

Slowly the fire died till nothing was left but falling ash and sparks; a bitter smoke curled above the burned tree-stumps, and blew darkly from the hill, as the first light of dawn came dimly in the sky. Their enemies were routed and did not return.

"What did I tell you, Mr. Pippin?" said Sam, sheathing his sword. "Wolves won't get him. That was an eye-opener, and make no mistake! Nearly singed the hair off my head!"

* * *

When the full light of the morning came no signs of the wolves were to be found, and they looked in vain for the bodies of the dead. No trace of the fight remained but the charred trees and the arrows of the Elves lying on the hill-top. All were undamaged save one of Legolas's. Only the point was left.

"It is as I feared," said Gandalf. "These were no ordinary wolves hunting for food in the wilderness. Let us eat quickly and go!"

That day the weather changed again, almost as if it was to the command of some power that had no longer any use for snow, since they had retreated from the pass, a power that wished now to have a clear light in which things that moved in the wild could be seen from far away. The wind had been turning north to north-west during the night, and now it failed. The clouds vanished southwards and the sky was opened, high and blue. As they stood upon the hill side, ready to depart, a pale sunlight gleamed over the mountain tops.

"We must reach the doors before sunset," said Gandalf, "or I fear we shall not reach them at all. It is not far, but our path may be winding, for here Aragorn cannot guide us; he has seldom walked in this country, and only once have I been under the west wall of Moria, and that was long ago.

"There is lies," he said, pointing away south-eastwards to where the mountains' sides fell sheer into the shadows of their feet, In the distance could be dimly seen a line of bare cliffs, and in their midst, taller than the rest, one great grey wall. "When we left the pass I led you southwards, and not back to our starting point, as some of you may have noticed. It is well that I did so, for now we have several miles less to cross, and haste is needed. Let us go!"

"I do not know which to hope," said Boromir grimly: "that Gandalf will find what he seeks, or that coming to the cliffs we shall find the gates lost forever. All choices seem ill, and to be caught between wolves and that wall the likeliest choice. Lead on!"

The group started down the mountain, all dejected save for Gimli. Legolas was dizzy, more so than usual. He tried to push it away, but couldn't. Nausea also gripped him, and it caused him to stumble.

He could no longer disguise it. Ylana had become suspicious, and had been watching her companion closely. "Legolas?" she called out in softly. "Are you all right?"

The male Elf didn't hear her. He put a hand to his forehead, took one wobbling step, then pitched forward into the snow.

Aragorn, who had turned at Ylana's concerned call, watched it all in horror. "Legolas!" he called, running towards his fallen friend. "Legolas!"

Legolas could feel gentle hands---_Aragorn's hands---_slide under his knees and shoulders and lift him. Looking up, he could see Aragorn's concerned face peering down at him as his mouth moved. _Speak up, you silly human, _he thought drowsily. _There's a sound as rushing water in my ears, and I can't hear a word you are saying._

Then he closed his eyes and was swallowed up by darkness.

* * *

Thranduil couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride as he looked around his kingdom. There was no doubting that, when called to action, his people didn't waste time.

Only minutes after the king's announcement, the inhabitants of Mirkwood had begun to prepare for the journey. With Amalyn leading the way, the Healers began to construct shifts in which to carry the sick. Annolir was directing those still standing to gather herbs, towels and other things that they would need. Thranduil himself had disappeared into his study to write a letter. He didn't want to descend on Elrond with a legion of Elves without any warning. So he sat down, pulled out a quill and a piece of paper and, with a heavy heart, began to write.

_Lord Elrond,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize that it has been so long since we last saw one another. I miss you terribly._

_We will have an opportunity to see one another again very soon, though I'm afraid it's not under the circumstances we would like. I'm bringing to you thirty of my people, who have fallen to a mysterious illness that even my best Healers are baffled by. You are the best Healer in all Middle-Earth, and we desperately need your help. We will be leaving here on the above date, and should arrive in Rivendell within the week._

_I look forward to seeing you again, and hope to be able to spend some time with you. May the grace of the Valar shine upon you until our next meeting._

_With all my love,_

_Thranduil_

The Elven king of Mirkwood read over his letter once more while the ink dried. Satisfied, he folded it and sealed it with his insignia ring. Then he called in his personal messenger who had, thankfully, not fallen.

"Take this to Lord Elrond of Rivendell," he said, handing the letter over. "Take your fastest steed. This is of utmost importance."

"Yes, my Lord." The younger Elf gave a bow, and then strode quickly from the room.

Thranduil let out a sigh, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. _Now I've got to find Annolir…_

* * *

Aragorn felt as though he was in a nightmare. He held Legolas tightly in his arms, gently shaking him and calling his name. The others stood where they were, watching with growing anxiety.

The Ranger's heart was pounding and he could feel hot tears fill his eyes. _This can't be happening! I will not lose him again. I can't._

After a few minutes, he felt a hand land on his shoulder. Looking up through water-filled eyes, Aragorn saw Gandalf standing over him with a kindly expression on his face. "Estel, that's enough. There's nothing you can do."

"Wha-what do you mean?" The human warrior could feel anger building up within him. _We are not leaving him!_

"You can't wake him, my friend. I don't know what has befallen him, but his spirit is not where it can easily be reached."

"So what are we to do?" He reached up to wipe away the first tear that had slipped down his cheek.

The wizard let out a weary sigh. "We must go back to Rivendell."

Frodo let out a loud cry at this. "But Gandalf! You said that, if we return to that city, we would be giving up the Quest. I do no wish to go back. But we can't continue on without getting Legolas any help."

"We are _not _giving up," Aragorn said firmly, standing up with Legolas cradled to his chest. He had wrapped his cloak around the Elf, and Legolas's head was resting in the hollow of his friend's shoulder. "I will not let the Enemy win. I _will _return to destroy the Ring. But not without Legolas by my side."

"Why don't we continue on to Minas Tirith?" Boromir asked. "Surely it is closer than Rivendell, and some of the best Healers in Gondor are there."

"Your human Healers can do nothing for him. Elves don't get sick. I have _never _heard of an Elf falling ill. Elrond might not know what to do, but he'll have a better idea than your Men."

Boromir gave the Man an unpleasant look, but said nothing. Aragorn was right.

Gandalf turned to Ylana, who had remained silent the entire time. "You are the best at geography. Do you know how long it will take for us to get there?"

"No less than nine days," she answered in a quiet voice. "That is, if we don't run into any trouble."

"Let's pray that we don't," the wizard answered grimly. "Legolas is now a fading star. If we do not get him help soon, I fear the worse may happen."

This quieted any protests that others might have had. So, with heavy hearts, they gathered their provisions and began the long trek back to Rivendell.

* * *

Thranduil found his elder son packing bags full of things needed for the journey and handing them out. Annolir looked exhausted, and the king wondered about the last time he'd gotten any sleep. He couldn't remember the last _he'd _gotten any sleep.

"May I have a moment?" Thranduil asked softly as he came to his son's side.

"Of course, Ada." Annolir asked another Elf to take his position, then followed his father to a relatively quiet corner of the room. "What is it?"

"I'm going to Rivendell with the others."

Annolir's eyes went wide. "You can't!" he cried. "You have to stay here. The people are going to need someone here to lead them."

The king smiled. "They _will_ have someone to lead them. You."

This caused the Crown Prince to blink. "Me? But, Father…"

He stopped as Thranduil placed a hand on both of his shoulders and stared deep into his eyes.

"You are ready for this," the king said softly. "You have already proven to be a much better ruler than I. I have no qualms whatsoever about leaving my kingdom in your hands. There is no one else that I would trust this to."

Conflict clearly showed in Annolir's emerald eyes.

"Please, Annolir. I need you to do this. For me."

The younger Elf blinked for a moment, and then nodded. "Then I shall do my best to lead the people, Father."

A smile spread across Thranduil's face, and he pulled his son into a tight embrace. "Thank you so much," he whispered. "I knew I could count on you."

"I shall try," Annolir whispered back, returning the hug.

The Elven king pulled away, gave his son a glowing smile, then turned around to leave, an extra bounce in his step.

Which is why he never saw the wicked grin that spread across Annolir's face, nor the gleam that appeared in his eyes.

Yes, things were turning out quite well.


	9. Walking Alone

Hi there, everyone! I apologize for my lack of absence. I've been so busy this semester. I hope this time around I'll have a bit more time to myself! Anywho, I hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas and a great and _safe _New Year's!

Disclaimer: Not mine, as always. The characters belong to Tolkien. The titles belong to Elliot. Simple enough.

Warnings: Yes, there still is going to be slash and an OC romance. I haven't changed any of that either.

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World's End

Chapter 8: Walking Alone

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The group remained silent for the rest of the day's journey. Gandalf took the lead with the hobbits following. Then came Aragorn, Legolas's limp form cradled tightly in his arms. Gimli was after him with Boromir bringing up the rear. Ylana was running from side to side, skipping ahead and coming back to the group to report the conditions ahead.

For all intents and purposes, Aragorn was walking alone.

He was still in shock from Legolas's collapse. It wasn't fair at all. He had just gotten Legolas back from Saruman's evil spell only to have him fall under another. He _needed _Legolas. Without the Elf by his side, he felt as though he was going to fall apart. Especially since he had no clue what was wrong with his friend. He was so caught up in his grief and worry that he didn't even notice the looks passed his way by the others.

Gandalf's looks held a bit more knowledge than the other's. So did Ylana's. Both had a good idea that there was more to Aragorn's worry and grief than the rest of them thought.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Gandalf called the silent group to a halt in order to set up camp for the night. After making sure Legolas was as comfortable as he could be, Aragorn left to see what he could hunt down for their dinner. Boromir and Ylana were sent out to collect firewood. The hobbits began to get the things that they would need to prepare whatever it was Aragorn brought them to eat.

Boromir, Ylana and Aragorn all returned at the same time. While the fire was being kindled, the Ranger skinned and cleaned the rabbits he had managed to catch. Sam had become excited at this, digging through his pack for spices and salts while babbling on about this lovely stew recipe he had. The hobbits' antics brought a small smile to Aragorn's face, but it still couldn't bring him out of his depressive funk. So, after asking Ylana to come and fetch him whenever dinner was ready, he disappeared into the thick foliage with his pipe,

His picked his way through the growing dusk until he found a spot that was both out of sight and out of earshot from the rest of the group, including Ylana. He took a seat on a patch of moss, leaned his back against a thick tree trunk and lit his pipe.

He desperately wanted to know what was going on and why it was happening to his best friend, who had only wanted to help other people. He hadn't deserved to be beaten by a jealous brother, or have his voice stripped away by a sadistic, traitorous wizard. And neither did he deserve this.

He defiantly didn't deserve to have a best friend like Aragorn, who couldn't even protect him.

A tear slid down the Ranger's cheek, which he angrily wiped away. He had been crying way too much lately, and he was sick of all this stupid self-pity that he had been wallowing in since they had first left Rivendell. He was supposed to be strong, be a model for the others. He was their pillar, the one they turned to when they needed help.

He couldn't afford to fall apart now!

Then again, it wasn't as though anyone could really blame him. He gained much of his strength from his Elven companion. The two had fought together side by side for so long now that they could read each other's movements and determine their next. Each was a celebrated warrior in his own right, but together they were a formidable foe that even the strongest opponents were afraid to take on.

When Legolas was gone, Aragorn felt this deep emptiness in his heart. It was like he was missing a vital part of himself. The two were soul brothers, sometimes closer than true siblings.

The Ranger didn't deny that he wished they could be more.

He had been trying to fight this feeling the whole time he had been on the road. He kept reminding himself that he was in love with Arwen, who was waiting for him anxiously back in Rivendell. But he no longer had any strength behind that argument. Every time he looked at Legolas, his breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a beat. Every time the two made contact, his whole body would tingle. He found himself longing to hold his blond companion in his arms, stroking that long, silky hair.

But those feelings stayed bottled up inside of him. He didn't know how Legolas felt. The Elf seemed to have gotten quite close to Ylana since she had joined the companions. Oh, he knew that Elves had no qualms about same-sex relationships, unlike the humans. They found everything just as beautiful, and if you happened to fall in love with another member of your gender. That was fine. But he had never heard Legolas speak his views on that, and he wasn't about to risk this dear friendship. He would gladly live a lie with Arwen if it meant that he could keep Legolas as his closest companion.

He let out a long sigh, closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree. His pipe, having long gone out, hung loosely in his hand. The sky above him darkened, and the stars began to appear. Aragorn didn't care. He was too busy trying to find an answer for the question weighing heavily on his heart.

_Why me?_

Before he could begin to ponder it, however, a slight shuffle of footsteps caused him to open his eyes. Looking up, he saw Ylana standing there, her raven hair sparkling in the dim starlight.

The female Elf offered her friend a gentle smile. "Come, Estel," she said softly. "Dinner is ready."

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_Where am I?_

Legolas felt warm, like the sun was shinning down on him. A breeze blew over him, bringing with it the fragrance of flowers and grass. He was lying on something soft, and there was a faint light behind his eyes.

"Well, well, well!" came an amused, unfamiliar voice from somewhere in front of him. It was definitely male, and defiantly Elven. "I see that you have finally decided to join us. How do you feel?"

Ever so slowly, the young prince blinked his eyes open, not wanting to endure the sting that the sun would bring.

A clear blue sky---not a cloud in sight!---hung over him. The sun was shinning merrily, but not too brightly. Looking out of the corner of his eyes, he could see that he was lying on grass.

"I hope you're comfortable," came that voice again, causing Legolas to push himself to a sitting position. "I've slept there myself quite a number of times."

As he looked around, Legolas came to realize that he was lying on a large, lush green field, dotted here and there by a few trees. The Elf who had spoken leaned against one of those trees, arms crossed, one foot resting on the tree trunk. His long, raven-colored hair fell past his shoulders, and his silver eyes sparkled as the regarded Legolas.

_Familiar _silver eyes.

Legolas's breath caught in his throat. _No. It _can't _be!_

"Who are you?" he rasped, heart pounding as he waited for the answer.

A cool eyebrow was lifted. "Do you not know? Come on, Legolas. I've been watching you, so I know you're a bright lad. Honestly, is it that hard to tell?"

"You're Gallas." Legolas's voice was flat, and he could feel his body go cold. "Ylana's brother."

The dark-haired Elf closed one eye and leveled a finger at his blond companion. "Bingo! See? I told you you were smart."

Legolas didn't even hear the banter. He was worried about one thing and one thing only.

"Am I dead?"

Gallas blinked at him, then burst out into laughter. "I'm sorry. I should've known that would be what you were thinking. Sometimes I forget that I'm dead. But I am happy to assure you that no, you are _not _dead. But your spirit has fled your body, so I brought you here."

Legolas looked around at the tree-dotted field that he lay in and the blue sky above him. "Where exactly is 'here'?"

Gallas shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. An in-between point between your world and mine."

This caused the prince to frown. "And what are you doing here? Better yet, what am _I _doing here?"

"I've been sent to help you." The Elf pushed off from the tree and came over to sit on the ground next to Legolas. "The Valar have sent a few of us out to help those of you who have fallen. I've been put in charge of you and one other."

Still frowning, Legolas looked around. "Who's the other?"

"He should be…" Gallas trailed off and his face lit up. "Ah! Here he comes now!"

The prince looked to where Ylana's brother was waving, and a gasp escaped his lips as his eyes went wide.

"You!"

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Elrond couldn't remember the last time he had felt so exhausted. He had been going non-stop in the past few days since the first Elf had fallen. Elrohir had been tending to the sick as well, with Elladan and Arwen running around doing errands. A few of the Elves who had fallen early had gotten slightly worse, though not as bad as Elrond suspected it could be.

He was currently bent over Glorfindel, whose fever had been easing slightly since he had become ill. Erestor, as always, was hovering nearby. He hadn't gotten any sleep either. His face was pale and drawn, and his clothes hung off of him as though he had been wearing them for days. Elrond was worried that his friend might be falling next.

He was so engrossed in his task that he didn't realize someone else had entered the room until they cleared their throat. Standing and turning, he saw a messenger there, looking exhausted, holding a piece of parchment.

"Lord Elrond?" he said softy. "I bring you a message from King Thranduil."

The Elven lord's eyes went wide. "Thranduil?" he asked, lunging for the letter. His heart suddenly turned cold at the thought of what a letter from Mirkwood might mean. "Tell me, how fares your king? Is he well?"

"He is fine, milord," the younger Elf replied gently. He was absolutely exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep for the next two days. But he couldn't do that just yet. Elrond was desperately worried about his lover, and the messenger would gladly provide any information that he could. "But there are many others who are not. We've had thirty who have fallen ill, and the king thought our best course of action would be to bring them here. By the looks of things, we're not the only ones with this problem."

"I'm afraid not." Elrond eagerly tore through the seal and hungrily scanned the words written on the parchment. He felt his knees go weak with relief when he realized that the messenger had been correct. It was Thranduil's hand, and the king himself had signed it just two days prior.

The dark-haired Elf looked up and offered a smile. "Thank you. Now, let's see if we can find you a bed. You must be exhausted to have made it here in two days!"

The messenger gave a bow, hen turned to leave.

Elrond turned to his advisor, who had not moved from his spot in the corner since Elrond had arrived. "Erestor, stay with him. Come find me if he gets any worse. I need to go make more room. Thranduil will be arriving in a few days with thirty more sick."

With a nod, Erestor came and took the cloth from the Elven lord. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he began to tenderly bathe Glorfindel's face.

Elrond couldn't help but smile. _You don't know how good you've got it, my friend, _he silently told the sick Elf. The he turned and left the room.

Though he was saddened by the prospect of even more ill Elves coming in, Elrond couldn't help but have a bounce in his step as he lead the Mirkwood messenger through the halls. He was going to be able to see Thranduil!

It had been such a long time since the lovers had seen one another. Four months at least. That was right. It had been at the party in Lothlorien, the one that Celeborn and Galadriel had every year. The two had hardly seen many of the other Elves, opting to spend most of their time together. Oh, but it had been lovely! And every time he thought about it, it made Elrond's heart ache for Thranduil all the more.

_Just a few more days…_

"Ada!"

Lord Elrond blinked as Arwen came into view, calling out to him. Seeing his precious daughter brought a tired smile to his face. "Hello, Arwen," he said softly. "How are you?"

"I am fine," she answered. "A little tired, but no worse for wear."

Elrond blinked again and looked closer at his daughter. _Really _looked at her.

Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a tail. Instead of the beautiful gowns she was fond of wearing, she was garbed in a simply dress that would like more in place on a peasant. Her eyes were heavy, and there were slight lines on her face.

"When was the last time you've gotten any sleep?" Elrond asked, moving forward to take his daughter's elbow.

Arwen shrugged. "Yesterday? Two days ago? I'm not really sure. But I'm fine. I've been tending to Lindir. He's doing much better."

"Good. But I want you to get some rest. There are more Elves coming, and at least thirty of them are ill."

Her eyes went wide as she realized what this meant. "By the Valar, it has spread? Is it Mirkwood?" Then she gasped as what that could possibly mean struck home. "Thranduil hasn't fallen, has he?"

Elrond shook his head. "No. Thranduil is fine. But he didn't know what other course to take, so he is sending his sick here. Which is why I need you to get some rest. We're going t be even busier than we are now."

She nodded. "I understand, Ada. And I _will _get some rest. Just not right now. Elrohir has asked me for more towels."

"Of course. I apologize for holding you up."

"You can never hold me up." She stood on her tiptoes to brush a kiss across his cheek before she hurried along on her errand.

Watching her go, Elrond felt that little smile fighting to appear on his face once more. _I have such wonderful children._

Then he shook his head and continued on his way. _I have too much to do and no time to do it in._

_What on Arda is happening to us?_

_-------------------------------------------------------------_

Dinner was eaten the same way the rest of the trip had been: in silence. The hobbits sat together, Boromir and Gandalf were keeping one another company and Ylana refused to let Aragorn be alone. Maybe they didn't say anything to one another, but at least the Ranger knew that she was there for support.

Legolas lay close to the fire, wrapped in Aragorn's cloak. He hadn't stirred since his collapse. Ylana couldn't be for certain, but from his flushed face she thought that the male Elf had a fever.

This wasn't good at all. It was rare for an Elf to collapse out of the blue and unheard of for one to get a fever when they hadn't been injured.

_An Elf getting sick? How can that be? It's just not possible!_

More frightening was the possibility of what was going to happen to her. Legolas was a strong, healthy warrior. If he had been human, it would have been hard for him to fall ill. Ylana was just as strong, just as healthy.

What did that mean for her? Would she too collapse and fall ill?

And who would care for her?

Aragorn was Legolas's best friend and, unless Ylana was way off her mark, he wanted to be so much more. Even if he didn't have Aragorn, Legolas had his family waiting for him back in Mirkwood. Ylana's family was dead, her best friend was a princess and the man she wanted to love had a busy life of his own.

She _couldn't _get sick. There was so much she wanted to do, so much she wanted to see! She was going to make a name for herself, to do deeds that musicians like Lindir would write songs about. To end her time on Middle-Earth with a bang when she crossed over to Valinor, or have he family tell her how proud they were when she saw them again in the Hall of Mandos. She didn't want to just pass quietly into the night!

And what would this mean for Legolas? Would he continue to get worse? How would it end if no cure could be found? Would it be painful as she had heard some human illnesses could be? Or would it be like fading and he simply stopped existing?

What would it mean for Aragorn? No matter what their title---best friends, soul brothers, something more---they shared a bond that Ylana had rarely seen. They could read each other like books, and she knew that one would gladly give his life for the other. If Legolas died, she wondered how long it would take for the human to follow. Arwen would undoubtedly pass after that, leaving Ylana all alone. That is, if she didn't end up joining them.

"Ylana?"

Blinking as she became aware of her name being called, she looked up to see Aragorn peering at her in concern.

She offered him a smile. "My apologizes, Estel. I did not mean to tune you out. I was just thinking about the turn our journey has taken."

A ghost of a smile touched the Ranger's lips. "I think that's the thought on everyone's mind right now. Though I have a feeling that your thoughts lie along a different path than the rest of ours."

She turned her eyes up towards the silver stars, their light clearly showing the troubled look on her face. "I feel like I'm walking alone," she said softly. "I don't know what's going on, or what's going to happen. I'll feely admit that I'm afraid. This isn't supposed to be happening, and I can't help but worry about the future."

Aragorn let out a sigh so weary that it made Ylana feel like weeping. "Well, let's stop worrying about it right now. Boromir has offered to take the night's watch so that the rest of us can get some sleep."

As she looked around, the female Elf noticed that the hobbits were already huddled together, Gimli and Gandalf were smoking together and Boromir was nowhere to be seen.

Ylana silently thanked her Gondorian companion. She was suddenly feeling very, very tired…

"Good night then, Estel," she said softly, lying down and pulling her cloak over her. "Im hartha le rado sîdh mi elei." (1)

"And you as well." Aragorn went to lie next to his best friend, back pressed against Legolas's, and closed his eyes.

But it was a long time before either he or Ylana fell asleep.

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Thranduil sat atop his horse as he watched the column of Elves file past him. Some were on foot, but most were on horses, helping to bear the sick. All were tired, but all wore masks of grim determination. They had a hope now, and they would do everything they could to see that it became a reality.

As his eyes turned from his people and land on his home, the king couldn't help but wonder---not for the first time---if he had made the right decision by entrusting his kingdom to his son.

Thranduil hated feeling this way. After all, Annolir was his _son. _And he'd been training to become king ever since he was young. While it pained Thranduil to have such thoughts about his elder, he couldn't help but feel that something was very wrong…

He closed his eyes and gave himself a mental shake. He had more important things to worry about right now. There were other people here to help Annolir run Mirkwood. _His _job was to see that his people got the help they needed.

So, with a sigh, he tore his gaze away from the castle and stared out into the forest. There was no knowing what awaited them. The dreaded Mirkwood spiders, servants of the Enemy spewing from Mordor or Dol Gulder… But they would make it. They had to!

With another heavy-hearted sigh, Thranduil spurred his mount to the head of the column where he belonged. He would be the one to lead his people to hope, to safety.

To Rivendell.

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(1) Im hartha le rado sîdh mi elei-------------------I hope you find peace in dreams


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